


The Good Fight

by Emily_F6



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Civil War AU, Civil War fix it, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad, Peter Parker Whump, Tony Stark Has A Heart, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-05-13 22:23:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19260334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_F6/pseuds/Emily_F6
Summary: The fight wasn't going well…Tony had to admit, he'd hoped this would work. But then Rhodey was falling…and Spiderman was there to save him. But who would save Spiderman? (A Civil War AU)





	1. The Fall

So…the fight was going…badly. Really…really badly. Steve wasn't stopping to listen. No one was. There wasn't even supposed to be a fight!

Tony has honestly had hope that this would work. He'd really thought that bringing the kid in, convincing Steve to just take a fucking second and talk…that it would all work out! They were adults! And Tony had thought that they were friends. He'd thought that this could be fixed. Because the world needed the Avengers. Hell, Tony needed the Avengers. His friends. Practically his family.

He'd benched the kid, so he didn't have to worry about him anymore…the battle had gone airborne anyway. The kid had done a good job…really, a really good job. Tony would have to keep an eye on him, but for the moment, Tony had to focus on the battle in the air. That is, until Sam dodged a beam shot by Vision…and then Rhodey was calling for him. Because his suit was dead.

Tony dove, thrusters going at full power.

He wasn't going to reach him. Not in time. He flew anyway, arms out, praying that someone, somehow…and then…then he heard the voice.

"I've got him!" The voice came over the comms right in Tony's ear, almost bringing him up short.

It made no sense. And things rarely made no sense to Tony Stark. He always understood things…his brain always made sense of whatever puzzle he was trying to solve eventually. Hell, he'd discovered a new element to save his own life! He'd created an arc reactor out of scraps in a cave! How could something so simple make no sense?

Because that voice belonged to Peter Parker of Queens, who he'd benched. Who had been just injured enough to freak Tony out…to make him feel guilty over dragging the fourteen-year-old into this in the first place. The kid had taken Cap's shield to the face, had a loading bridge dropped onto him, and had been swatted out of the sky by a giant man. So he'd benched him. Told him he'd done good. And then he'd gone on with the fight, desperate to contain Steve before Ross showed up to give it a try.

One moment Tony had been diving after Rhodey…arm outstretched, desperate. His family…no, his team was falling apart. He'd been desperate enough that he'd recruited a fourteen-year-old to help him out, and said kid had almost been seriously hurt, and now Rhodey….

Not Rhodey. He couldn't lose Rhodey. He'd lost Jarvis and his mother and his shitty father and he was losing the friends he'd been so desperate to keep…the ones he'd designed rooms for in his home and the ones he'd made smoothies for and opened his life to…but he couldn't lose Rhodey. Not his best friend. The man who had been a brother to him who had loved him who had gotten him through every loss so far…he wasn't going to make it in time.

And then…a web attached to his suit and a yank…a flash of red and blue, too high in the air. How had Peter gotten…how was Peter…arms wrapped around the War Machine suit, a web…a web going from Rhodey to Tony's suit. Tony stopped short, his instincts working before his brain had fully processed the situation. The kid had attached a web between him and Rhodey…and when Tony stopped short, so did Rhodey's suit.

The next second seemed to take hours. Peter let go of the suit, all of them so high in the air. He aimed his wrist at Tony's suit, and then Tony understood. Peter was worried that with his added weight going at the speed they were going, his web might not hold. So Spiderman held up his wrist as the War Machine suit bounced a little in the air.

Nothing happened.

He was out of web fluid. The boy looked at up him, the lenses on his suit going wide right before…

The kid didn't stop.

The dull thud of Peter Parker's body hitting the tarmac would join wormholes and Pepper plummeting out of sight in his nightmares. The sight of the boy, smaller somehow in a suit that Tony had designed, hitting the ground…bouncing just a little…his head coming up and then cracking against the ground once more…that sight would never leave him. Tony was sure of it.

"No!" The scream that tore out of Rhodey's throat stunned Tony, but not as much as the sight of Peter Parker lying absolutely stilling the concrete for the second time that day.

How…how? He'd told the kid to stay down, Tony thought numbly, lowering Rhodey to the ground and watching his friend scramble out of the suit. He touched down and the suit retracted, leaving him free to race to the kid's side, gasping for air. Wheezing. Desperate for it. This couldn't be happening.

Peter Parker. Fourteen. Orphan. Sophomore. Spiderman. Genius.

"No…no no…shit!" Rhodey was muttering under his breath and pulling Peter's mask back and Tony felt like he was breathing underwater. No. This wasn't possible. He'd told the kid he was done. He'd benched him! The kid had done great but then he'd been hurt and Tony couldn't live with himself if he got a fourteen-year-old boy hurt in a fight like this. "Tony!"

His friend's cry jolted him out of his stupor and he reached out with shaking hands, two fingers pressed to Peter's throat. A heartbeat. Rhodey held his hand over the boy's mouth and nodded to himself, neither of them wanting to look at the trail of blood that ran from the boy's nose. "What…what the fuck…". Tony whispered, fighting the urge to shake the kid…or hug him.

Peter had saved Rhodey's life. Spiderman had saved his best friend. And now…now the boy wasn't moving. His heart had to be beating because Rhodey hadn't said anything. But his friend had stopped, shaking hands hovering over the boy's chest.

"I didn't mean to…" Sam touched down a few feet away, wings folding behind him, words dying in his throat when he saw the boy's face. Saw the discarded mask that lay in a heap at his side…the bloody discarded mask. Tony hadn't meant for the kid's identity to get out. Hadn't meant for any of this…still couldn't process any of this! The kid…Peter…had blood running from one of his nostrils, a messy line of red that went from his nose and down his cheek to the concrete under him, and Tony wanted to wipe it off. He felt the urge to use his sleeve and wipe the boy's face. A child. This was a child. And because of Tony…what if…what if he…

"Oh…oh shit!" Sam raced toward them, jerking his arms out of his wingsuit and letting it fall to the ground as he dropped to his knees. Fingers checked for a pulse before he spoke into his comms. "I need medical right now! It's a kid! There's a kid down on the tarmac" He barked. Tony could only imagine what kind of responses he was getting. Everything seemed too quiet. How was it this quiet? Hadn't there been a battle going on around him?

He should have called for medical, Tony thought, his brain barely working. Why hadn't he called for medical? Why did his chest feel too tight? Why couldn't he move? Wipe the blood off of Peter's cheek? Feel the boy's pulse? What if he stopped breathing?

"How old is this kid? Fuck, Tony." Sam bit out, peeling back one of Peter Parker's eyelids to reveal only the whites of his eyes. And Tony wanted to defend himself. Wanted to explain. But the boy was silent. Still. As still as death. Tony had known Peter for roughly a day and already knew that this kid didn't do 'still.' He was fidgety and excitable and there was no way he would just lie there like this. "Tony!" Sam snapped again, and Rhodey placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Tones? Man, you gotta breathe. Hey!" Tony took a gasping, wheezing breath, looking up at Rhodey with what felt like despair written plain on his face. "Tones, he's alive. For now, he's alive. Medical is on their way. Can you scan him? Or…or can his suit scan him?"

Tony nodded, feeling his thoughts turn back into something that resembled order. "Yeah…yeah.." He choked out, scooting a little closer to the boy and pulling out his phone. Opening the display for Peter's suit, he had the hologram up so that Sam could see too. Out of the three of them, he had the most medical training, with Rhodey coming in at a close number two.

Immediately Rhodey leaned in, eyes scanning the hologram that listed Peter's injuries. Some were what Tony had expected. Bruising. Lots of it. A black eye. Some broken ribs. All of those were to be expected. Horrific, listed like that in regards to a child that he had dragged into all this, but still. Not the end of the world. But then there were others. Words like 'spinal' and 'fracture' and 'damage' that Tony's brain refused to process. Because Peter Parker, orphan, sophomore, spiderman, genius, could not have a damaged spine. Because that would mean…no. Tony refused to think about what that would me. No. Hard stop. Like a wall had been erected in his brain. He refused. He couldn't face that. Not after everything.

The medics came, and Tony was vaguely aware of Rhodey pulling him backward, careful hands on his shoulders as Sam gave them what information he had. Tony was also vaguely aware that there were others. Natasha, a hand on her mouth as she watched the medics secure a collar around Peter's neck. Vision, face almost blank as they eased a backboard under the child and strapped him on. Bucky and Steve, mouths open, eyes wide as one of the medics pulled out a pair of scissors and cut down the front of Peter's suit, attaching a monitor to his chest.

And then Rhodey was pulling him forward, Sam coming along, saying words that didn't quite reach Tony's ears. It sounded like he was underwater somehow, even as Rhodey pushed him to sit. The heavily accented English mixed with German all sounded like nonsense as he tried to make himself small in the corner of the ambulance. "He…enhanced. He's…he's enhanced." He tried to say, unsure if the words came out. Sam spared him a glance and nodded, then began to explain that as best he could to the medics who were speaking so quickly that, even if Tony had known more than a few phrases in German, he would still have trouble understanding.

"Tones. Talk to me."

They weren't in an ambulance anymore. They were in a waiting room. Rhodey sat at his side as Tony stared at nothing, the scene replaying again and again. Peter attaching a web to the War Machine armor. The boy letting go…then looking up at Tony. Eye-lenses going wide…the sound of his body hitting the ground.

"What?" He asked, shaking his head and meeting his friend's concerned gaze. "Is he…is Peter…"

"We don't know yet. They just took him back. We have Helen Cho on her way…she'll help him. He's alive."

"His spine…if it…if his spine is fractured then…". Tony didn't know if he could say the word.

"We won't know for sure until the doctor comes out." He nodded. Right. He'd known that. Feeling like he was finally resurfacing from underwater, he looked around the room, quickly finding Sam and Natasha sitting on the other side, heads together, shooting him looks he couldn't decipher. Why were they here? Why did they keep staring at him?

Sam stood, moving over to sit across from them, Natasha following. "Who is he?" Sam wondered.

"Peter," Tony told him, not sure if he had any more information to give. It wasn't like he even had the right. Not really. Peter's identity was none of their business.

"How old?" Natasha wanted to know. Her voice was choked. Soft. Sad. He wanted to ask where Steve was but couldn't be bothered to care. They could sort their own shit out.

"Fourteen." Everyone was silent for a while. But Tony had to at least try to explain. "You wouldn't listen." He told Sam, speaking again when the man went to argue. "I never said the Accords were the right answer. I said that we should make them better. Keep the team together. I brought Peter to help me detain you so that we could finally sit down and talk this through."

"I never…I had no idea this would happen." Sam snapped, gesturing around at the waiting room.

"I know." And Tony did. Sam Wilson was plenty of things, but he'd never hurt a kid. None of them would.

"Steve and Bucky are hiding out. Bucky didn't blow up that building, Tony." He nodded, almost able to forget that they were waiting to see if a fourteen-year-old was paralyzed.

"Okay. Who did."

"That's what they're trying to find out."

Tony didn't care what they did…not really. Because he had to make this right with Peter before he worried about anything else. It was on him. The boy had gotten hurt and it was on him. All of it. He hadn't been able to make Steve listen and he hadn't been able to save Rhodey. But Peter had. Peter had ignored his direct order and had saved his best friend.

They waited for hours in a waiting room full of people that didn't spare them much of a second glance. At one point, Natasha disappeared and then returned with food that Tony ignored. All he could see, every time he blinked, was Peter. Falling. Looking at him. A hand reached out toward him, trying to shoot a web that never came. Hitting the ground. The thud. The way his body had bounced a little…the way his head had cracked against the concrete…how could he eat when that was all he could see.

Peter had been so excited to meet him. So excited to work with him…to be close to him. And Tony swore, in that moment, sitting in the waiting room with friends and possible enemies, that he would not push this kid away. If he could just…just see the boy again…talk to him…then he would be better. Better than his father ever had been…not that he was the boy's father. But still. He would be…something to Peter. Whatever the kid wanted…friend, mentor, mysterious benefactor that bought him cool shit. Tony didn't care. As long as he was okay.

Peter Parker had to be okay.

There were footsteps in the hall, and Tony looked up to find a doctor approaching, face set in a carefully blank mask. He glanced at his watch…they had been there for almost five hours.

"Mr. Stark?"

He jumped up, holding out a hand to the woman, Rhodey on his heels. "Yes. I had Peter brought in." Well, Sam had. But still…the boy was his responsibility. Under his care. The doctor nodded, glancing at the others. Finally, her eyes met Tony's and he felt his heart crack open. Her eyes were full of sympathy. Sadness. They weren't the eyes of someone about to give him good news.

"Mr. Stark, why don't we go…"

"Just tell me." He begged, surprised at how easy the plea came. "Just…is he alive?"

She nodded, seeming to struggle to meet his eyes. "Yes. He is alive."

"Will he…will he ever walk again?" She pressed her lips together.

"It would really be better if we…"

"Will he walk again?" He demanded. He couldn't move…couldn't breathe until he knew. Because once he knew, he could prepare. He could fix it. He was a mechanic. He fixed things. The woman sighed, then lowered her voice, leaning in.

"Mr. Stark…we are doing the best we can, but at this point…considering the head trauma he suffered…we aren't sure if he'll ever regain consciousness again."


	2. Phone Calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely response to this story!! I hope you like the new chapter.

One moment, Tony was standing on his own. He was sure of it. He was standing upright, staring at a doctor whose professions demeanor cracked just a little when she spoke the words that resounded with what felt like a literal crack in his heart. And then Rhodey had an arm around him, keeping him firmly upright, gripping his upper arm. "Tones…"

"What do you mean? What does...what does that mean?" He demanded. Tried to demand. His voice came out a squeak and he hated himself for it, but he couldn't make it any stronger. Sam and Natasha had joined them, and she looked between the four superheroes, seemed to gather herself, and spoke in an equally soft voice.

"If you'll come with me." This time it wasn't a request, and Tony glanced over at Sam and Nat only to find them giving him worried, strained looks. Worried about him, he wondered. Why? He wasn't the one who'd…instead of articulating words, his brain replayed the image. The boy securing a web to the War Machine suit. Then letting go. Reaching out to him...no, not reaching out. Trying to shoot a web. A kid he'd spoken to maybe five times...who he'd had one actual conversation with…

He'd run out of web fluid.

The image seemed to skip right to the end. The boy's body hitting the concrete. His head bouncing on the tarmac. He couldn't remember if the kid…

Peter. It hurt, but the kid deserved for him to at least use his damn name.

He couldn't remember if Peter had screamed. Couldn't remember if he'd cried out when his head had hit the ground. But Rhodey had. Rhodey, who was leading him down the hallway, the four of them following the doctor. Rhodey had screamed. Nat looked like she wanted to reach out. Like she wanted to give him a hand. Tony thought he might shatter if she touched him.

He needed to call Pepper.

The next thought hit him like a freight train. May Parker. He hadn't called May Parker.

"Tony!" Rhodey cried, barely managing to catch him as he stumbled. "Tones, what…"

"His aunt. His...I need to call his…"

"Okay. We will. We'll have someone notify her…"

"I have to do it." It was said as more of a groan than anything. He had to do it. It had to be him. May Parker, who had lost her husband less than a year ago, needed to hear it from him, the one who'd put her nephew in danger in the first place. Penance. That's what it would be. Some kind of pathetic penance...as if anything he could do could ever be enough.

"Okay. First, let's find out what we need to tell her, okay?" He nodded, more a reflex than anything, and resumed walking down the hall, leaning a little less on Rhodey. He had to pull himself together. Had to breathe. Had to remember that Peter was alive and that he had the best medical professionals in the world at his beck and call. He needed to call them, now that he thought of it. Helen Cho would lead them...he was sure he could lure her to Germany to take a look. Dr. Cho was one of the best there was. But for head trauma...he was sure Friday had a list of doctors for him to look over. He'd call them all if he had to.

He was going to make sure this kid was okay if it was the last thing he did.

The doctor led him into a smaller waiting room with chairs for all of them. Sam and Natasha hesitated before entering the room, but Tony went right in, letting Rhodey guide him to sit on one of the chairs. His friend sat right beside him, a hand on his back as Tony leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The doctor sat down across from him, a chart in her hands, her lips pursed. "I have his scans here." She told him softly, opening the folder and glancing over at the other two occupants in the room. Tony stared down at the paper she held out, showing pictures that his mind refused to interpret.

Brain damage. Those were the only words getting through as Rhodey kept a firm hand on his back. The child had brain damage. "Considering his…" The doctor trailed off for a moment, then smiled apologetically. "Considering his enhancement, we can't really know how his body will attempt to heal itself. Were he an ordinary person, I would say to you, without a doubt, that this boy would never wake up again. There's too much damage. But he's in surgery now, and the lead surgeon says that his brain is attempting to heal itself."

"So...so he...he's going to be okay?" Tony asked, surprised at how weak his own voice sounded. How hopeful. But of course, he was hopeful. Of course, he was desperate. This was all on him. Peter had to be okay. He had to.

The doctor's face went back to solemn. "That's...a complicated question. He shouldn't be in surgery for more than another hour...but the brain is a delicate organ. Even with his healing, we won't know anything until he wakes up. If he wakes up. We have no precedent for this. In addition to the head trauma, we also have to worry about the spinal damage."

Of course. He'd almost forgotten.., the kid had landed on his back. Had probably broken it. Tony knew that the kid had broken ribs...but what if he never walked again! What if Peter woke up and Tony had to explain to him that he could probably never walk again. "I'm bringing in my own doctors. Helen Cho…" Recognition flashed in her eyes even as he realized that perhaps he had been a bit too harsh. Rhodey spoke before he could, though.

"Okay. Tony, why don't we go back to the hotel? Get some rest…"

"I'm not leaving him!" His voice was raw and desperate and he felt his eyes heat up but he refused to let his tears fall. Not here. Not in front of all these people. Tony took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "He's...he's fourteen. I'm not leaving him alone."

"He won't be out of surgery for another hour, and then we'll need to get him settled into a room. Then you'll be able to see him. I can have another bed put in his room if you'd like to stay with him." The doctor hurried to assure Tony, speaking gently.

"See. We'll just be gone for an hour. We need to make some calls anyway. Get cleaned up. Get something to eat. You're not going to be able to do him any good if you don't take care of yourself."

"We can come right back," Sam suggested, starting to stand, but Tony whirled, pointing a finger, teeth pressed together as he spoke through them.

"Don't. Don't you dare…" He snapped, cutting himself off before he could get any further. It wasn't really Sam's fault. He knew that. But still...he could see it. Peter's head hitting the concrete, bouncing just a little. The blood trailing down his face. Sam, dodging a beam from Vision that hit Rhodey. Who was he supposed to blame for this? Himself. Who else? But still...Sam had taken Steve's side. Against him. Steve had started this stupid fight and Sam had gone along with it and now a fourteen-year-old boy was in surgery because...because he'd saved Rhodey's life.

"Tones…" Rhodey warned softly.

"Look...I know you don't want to leave him. None of us do…"

"You threw him through a fucking window." Tony snapped. Because yeah, he'd seen that.

"I didn't know he was a kid!" Sam snapped right back.

"Okay." Natasha stepped in, hands up as she stood. "Okay." She said again, more softly, sparing the doctor a look. "We've already had one fight and look how that turned out. For now, the child is our first priority, no matter how he got hurt." She shot Sam a look and the man backed down. "Tony, he's probably not going to wake up for a few more hours at least. For now, we can all get something to eat and get cleaned up. Then we can come right back." She met Tony's eyes, leaning in, her own face asking him to listen.

"FIne." He muttered, nodding once. The doctor stood, followed by the rest of them. "Okay. Let's go." The faster they left, the faster they could return.

Happy drove him and Rhodey to the hotel, while Sam and Natasha disappeared. Tony had no idea if they were going to the same hotel or not...he didn't care. Didn't have the mental capacity to care. Not at the moment. He was sure that Steve and his crazy friend were off doing...something. And Ross was going to try and capture them. But it wasn't his business, not at the moment. First, he had to make sure the kid was okay.

Happy hesitated at the doorway of his hotel room, and Tony had to fight the urge to snap. "What?" He asked, waiting. Waiting for a lecture or a question or…

"His phone." He turned to look at Happy, eyebrows lifting when the man held out the device. An Android, screen cracked in the corner. "Kid was making some kind of video diary...I told him not to, but he said he wouldn't show it to anyone." Happy shrugged and Tony took it. "Boss?"

"Yeah?" He asked, his voice a sigh as he caught sight of his own reflection in Peter's black screen.

"Someone needs to call his aunt." Of course, they did. Aunt May. Hadn't Tony threatened to tell Aunt May when he'd benched the kid? "Do you...do you want me to…" Tony sighed, shaking his head. He wouldn't ask that of Happy.

"No. I'll...I'll do it." With that, he shut the door and dropped the phone on the bed, heading for the shower and hoping to buy himself a few seconds of peace.

Once he was cleaned up, he headed back to the main room, dressed in sweats and a tank top, and opened one of the protein bars from the top of the mini fridge. There was no alcohol in the room...he'd made sure of that, but he knew that had there been a bottle of whiskey in the room, he would have found his way to the bottom of it. Swallowing the last of the protein bar, he dropped onto the bed, running a hand over his face.

"Friday, make sure Helen Cho is on her way. No matter what she asks for, give it to her. Ask for her to gather up a team, whoever she wants."

"Yes, boss."

Pepper was the first contact in his favorites list, and he tapped her name, holding the phone to his ear as his leg bounced off the side of the bed. She picked up after two rings. "Tony?"

"I need your help."

"Tony? What happened?" She demanded.

"Pep...it's the kid. Spiderman." He hadn't told her about his true identity...hadn't told anyone about him. But now, he would have to trust Pepper with it. Not that he didn't trust her...but Peter was counting on him to keep it a secret, and more and more people were finding out. "He...he got hurt."

"What about Steve? Were you able to…"

"Pepper, Spiderman is hurt. Bad. He...he's in surgery but...I need you to bring his aunt here. She's his legal guardian."

"His legal…" She trailed off, and he heard his girlfriend take a sharp breath. "Tony, how old is he?"

"His name is Peter and he's...he'll be fifteen in a few months."

"Tony…" She whispered, and he ran a rough hand over his face.

"I'm about to call his aunt and tell her...I'll tell her it was a car accident but…" He took a deep, shuddering breath, and did his best to keep going. "I'll tell her it was a car accident. I was hoping you could come with her...I'm having my jet bring her but…"

"Of course." She softened a little. "When I get there, will you tell me what's going on?"

"Yeah...yeah, I'll...I'll explain when you get here." There was a pause, and he went on, stumbling over his words. "I never meant...I benched the kid. I swear, Pep, I told him to stay down and then he…"

He fell. His head bounced on the tarmac, arm outstretched….

"Send me the address and I'll be there in an hour."

"Thank you."

He grabbed the boy's phone after he hung up, pulling his sunglasses on and watching the display light up. The boy's background was a picture of him standing next to a larger, darker-skinned boy, the two of them holding a trophy between them. He looked up at the ceiling, forcing himself to breathe. To take deep breaths. He had to breathe if he was going to get back to the kid. "Friday?" He asked, tapping the side of his sunglasses.

"Yes, boss?"

"I need you to scan the kid's phone. I'm looking for video files starting the day I met him...anything that involves Spiderman or me...Happy said he was making a video diary."

"Scanning." Pulling out his own phone, he scrolled through his contacts until he found May Parker's. He stared at her name, wondering what the hell he could possibly tell her. "Video file found." The boy's phone screen was still on the lock screen photo...he wouldn't rifle through it. But...the kid had made a video diary. Tony had recruited him and brought him to Germany, and he hadn't even gone with him. Hadn't even ridden on the plane with him. He'd sent the kid with Happy who hadn't wanted to babysit him in the first place...what if that video diary was the last thing Peter ever made?

Swallowing hard, he told Friday to play the video.

The hologram showed a car window and the passing of buildings in New York. Somewhat familiar buildings. Then, the kid's voice, but deeper and with a heavy New York accent. "New York. Queens. It's a rough borough, but hey, it's home." Tony narrowed his eyes and leaned in.

"Hey? Who are you talking to?" Happy asked in the video, and the camera moved to show his driver turning around a little in the front seat.

"No one." The boy answered, voice back to normal and cheerful. "Just making a little video of the trip."

"You know you can't show that to anyone." His bodyguard reminded the boy, voice flat and tired sounding. Happy hadn't wanted that job...not that his driver and bodyguard and friend would have refused it. He would have protected the kid. But Tony knew, watching the man and hearing Peter's happy, laughing voice, that it had been the wrong call to put Happy in charge of him.

"Yeah, I know." The boy chirped.

"Then why are you narrating in that voice?"

"Because it's fun."

"Fun?" Happy repeated dubiously, and Tony felt his heart ache for the boy. Fun. The boy had been having fun. Because he was fourteen. And he'd been so excited.

"So why do they call you Happy?" Tony snorted, wiping a hand over his eyes and waving his other hand to make it stop.

"That's enough, Fri." He whispered, dropping his head into his hands. "What's the ETA on Helen?"

"About six hours, boss."

"Right. Okay." He pulled the glasses off and dropped them onto the bed next to Peter's phone. "Okay." Taking a deep breath, he touched May's name on his phone, then held it to his ear. He could do this. He would have her flown out here. He would promise that everything was okay. Because it had to be. Peter would be okay and...and Tony would make sure the kid knew how grateful he was. How good he had done. Because he'd done so good. He'd disobeyed direct orders, of course, but the kid had potential. Maybe one day, he would be an Avenger.

'If he wakes up.' His brain reminded him, and he flinched at the thought just as May answered her phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mrs. Parker. It's Tony Stark."

"Oh...oh, Mr. Stark. I'm sorry…" He swallowed, rubbing a hand over his face and fighting back the bile in his throat. "How's Peter? I hope he's not talking your ear off. I swear he gets it from his mother." She laughed a little, sounding distracted. She was probably getting ready for work or...or making dinner...he wasn't sure exactly what time it was in New York. Or in Germany, for that matter. "Can I help you, Mr. Stark? Did you need something? Is Peter okay?"

He swallowed hard, staring at the blank wall.

The boy had fallen, arm outstretched toward him like he'd been asking for Tony to catch him but he hadn't. Tony hadn't caught him because there hadn't been time and...his body had hit the tarmac, head bouncing. Blood trailing from his nose, a line of bright red over his pale face.

"Mr. Stark?" She asked again, voice a little louder. "Is…"

"Mrs. Parker...there...I'm sorry to say that there was an accident." There was silence. A long, terrible silence. He didn't want to keep going. Didn't want to tell her what kind of accident or that her nephew was in a German hospital and that he might never walk again or even wake up despite his mutation. He thought for a moment that he was going to have to go on despite her silence, but then she responded.

"No." It was the word of a woman who had already lost so much. Why did she have to lose this one too? Tony closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe. He had to explain. Had to tell the boy's last living relative what had happened..

"It was a car accident."

"No!" Mrs. Parker bit out, and he knew that she was crying. He knew that he was crying.

Peter had been excited.

His head had bounced on the tarmac, an arm outstretched.

"I have the best doctors…"

"Stop!" Her cry seemed to crack something open in him and he put a shaky hand over his eyes. He'd dragged Peter into this. "Please...please, don't...he can't…"

"I'm so sorry," Tony whispered. "I'm sending Miss Potts...Pepper...she's going to bring you here. I'll take care of everything. Your boss, your job, the apartment...I'll take care of it all…"

"He's my...he's...he's only fourteen…" She choked out, and he wished he could...what? Put a hand on her shoulder like he had Peter's? Pat her on the back? Tell her that, since her nephew had secret spider-themed powers that he might be okay? That he might wake up again? "He's all...all I have…"

"I'm so sorry. I...I'm so sorry, Mrs. Parker. It was...he was in the car..."

"Were you with him?" She interrupted, voice hard, and he clenched his hand in a fist, gripping the blankets.

"He...he was with my driver and their car...someone hit…" It was a flimsy story, one that he could barely get out, but she was sobbing on the other end and he couldn't speak because his heart was racing and he couldn't breathe and the boy had been excited and his head had bounced on the tarmac and Rhodey had screamed...but he hadn't. Peter hadn't made a sound. "Miss Potts will be there in an hour." He gasped out, praying that she didn't know he was crying, although he wasn't sure why that mattered. "I have a private jet waiting for you."

"Is...is he...going to be…"

"He's in surgery. I...we don't know much yet."

There was a cry on the other line. A ragged, anguished sob that ripped right through him, and he placed his hands over his face, dropping the phone on the bed beside her nephew's, feeling hot tears fall down his face. His fault. This was his fault. But he would fix it. He had to fix it. He grabbed the phone, giving his head a quick shake, then speaking to her again. "Mrs. Parker, I'm going to do everything I can. I swear to you, I will do whatever it takes to make sure your nephew is okay. I have world-class doctors on their way. No matter what, I'm going to take care of Peter."

And he would.

Once she'd agreed to come to Germany with Pepper, he picked up Peter's phone once more. "Fri...show me the rest of his video." He would watch the whole thing, and then he would go back to Peter. He would sit by the boy's side until he woke up.


	3. Bedside Vigil

Peter Parker was fourteen years old. Since being that age himself, Tony hadn't exactly spent a lot of time with humans that age. Sure, he signed autographs and had, on occasion, flown over a birthday party or two, waving to excitable children. He went through his fan mail from little kids who'd drawn crude renditions of his red and gold armor, sending back thank you notes with his signature. And he saw teenagers at expos sometimes. Not a lot of them, but they were present sometimes and he had no problem chatting with them about science or whatever and encouraging them to stay in school and all that Jazz.

When he'd found out that Spiderman was only fourteen, he'd been...not afraid, but something close. Wary. Nervous. It didn't seem right. Fourteen-year-olds shouldn't be fighting criminals in pajamas. And looking at Peter Parker's grades for the first time, he'd seen that this kid had potential. He had the highest GPA in his class. The best test scores. He was in his robotics club, did Academic Decathlon, and marching band. The kid was going places.

He was going to end up dead in an alley if Tony didn't help him. That was his main fear, from the moment he saw the kid on YouTube. That he'd piss off the wrong low-level supervillain and get himself shot or stabbed or freeze rayed or whatever other dangers lurked in Queens where the boy operated. So Tony had come up with a plan. He'd design the kid a suit. A real one. How do give it to him...well, he hadn't planned that just yet.

Not until Steve had gone off the rails protecting Barnes.

When Tony had first caught a glimpse of Peter Parker, he'd been sitting on the kid's sofa with his aunt, suffering through a walnut date loaf that he'd accepted to be polite. The boy had walked into his apartment, a computer keyboard tucked under his arm, wire dangling, backpack on his back, head down.

And then he'd greeted his aunt, voice almost a little too squeaky, like it was on the verge of breaking. Because Peter Parker was fourteen years old and children who were fourteen years old talked like that. And Tony had thought, not for the first time, that he was being a selfish bastard, pulling this kid, this child, away from his aunt. Away from his friends and family and school...but then he'd reminded himself that Peter had already chosen this. He'd already decided to be a hero. Tony was just...providing him with more resources to do that.

And then Peter had met his eyes, his own eyes going wide, yanking earbuds out of his ears, jaw dropping just a little before starting to ask what he was doing there...he'd quickly backtracked, though, introducing himself. Tony had done the same, fighting a laugh at the facial journey the boy was demonstrating. Excitement. Confusion. The urge to play it cool.

Peter might have been smaller than Tony, just a few inches, but his arms and shoulders under his shirt spoke of muscle...the kind a teenage boy might get after deciding to work out more...or after an incident involving radioactive something or another's and suddenly gaining the ability to stick to things and catch cars with his bare hands.

But when Tony stepped into Peter's hospital room for the first time, all he could think about was how small he looked. Skin scrubbed of blood, frame covered by a gown and a thin sheet, Peter looked...small. Childlike. Alone, surrounded by machines that beeped around him, he looked too small to be a superhero. And yet, he'd saved Rhodey's life. The kid's hair had been buzzed, removing soft curls and leaving a thin layer of fuzz. It made him look even younger. Smaller.

The kid's mouth was open, a tube disappearing through a blue block in his mouth, and a machine beside him pumped air in and out of his lungs. Peter couldn't even breathe on his own. Tony flinched at the thought and forced his legs forward. He could do it. He had to. He owed it to the kid that had saved his best friend. The absolute least he could do was make sure Peter wasn't alone.

The doctor had suggested he talk to the kid, but what the hell could he say? Hey kid, sorry about all this. It sucks, huh?" The thought made him roll his eyes as he sat down beside the boy's bed. Pepper was on her way with May. Helen was due to land in a few hours. The others...well, they were around. What mattered was that he was with the kid.

He dropped into the seat beside Peter's bed, staring for too long at the kid's hand. His hands were fine. Normal. I like his still, pale face or his shaved head or his spine...no, Tony wasn't going to think about that. Not until Helen arrived. She had experience with enhanced people. Already, the bruise around his eye, probably from being hit in the face by Cap's shield, was fading. He didn't doubt it would be gone by the next day. But the other damage…

Tony took deep breaths, his hand inching forward. It shouldn't be this hard, he told himself. Nothing should. But it took a Herculean effort to lift his own hand and place it on the bed. Shaking his head at himself, he made one last push and, finally, after at least three minutes of agonizing, placed his hand on Peter's colder one. Gritting his teeth and looking away for a moment, he grabbed the kid's sheet and pulled it up a little more.

"You cold, Pete?" He asked, voice hoarse as though he hadn't spoken in days. Clearing his throat, he patted the boy's hand and looked around for a call button. It was by Peter's head, so he pressed it, and less than two minutes later, a woman stepped into the room."

"Hallo." She knocked on the door, smiling a little, and he searched his mind for any rudimentary German he might know. Coming up with nothing but greetings, he gestured toward Peter.

"Can I get a blanket for him?"

She nodded, smile softening as she switched to accented English. "Of course." Moving over to a closet, she opened it, reaching into the top shelf, and pulled out a blanket. Before she could drape it over the kid, Tony intercepted her.

"I can…". He trailed off but didn't have time to be embarrassed before she handed him the folded gray blanket, nodding.

"Let me know if you need anything else, Herr Stark." He forced a smile.

"Danke." He thanked her, using one of the maybe six words he knew in German.

Turning back to Peter, he shook out the blanket and draped it carefully over the boy, pulling it up to his chest, careful not to disturb the wires or tubes. "There you go, kid." He murmured, sitting once more and placing his hand back over Peter's. "How's that? Any better?" There was no response. Not even a twitch.

When Helen arrived, it was with a flurry of questions asked in the hallway right outside of Peter's room, and Tony knew that he needed to get up. That he needed to brief her or thank her for coming or something. But he'd been resting his hand on Peter's for hours now, the two of them existing in silence, and he didn't want to move. He wanted the kid to know that he was there. That he wasn't leaving. He didn't want Peter to be afraid.

What if the kid was afraid? What if he could hear them? Didn't that happen sometimes?

"Kid?" Tony asked, ignoring Helen's conversation in the hall for a moment. "I'm right here with you, okay. It's...uh...it's Tony. Stark." He clarified as if there would be confusion. "I'm with you, and I'm not leaving. You're going to be alright, okay? Promise. Your aunt is on her way, and…". He swallowed, dropping his eyes, mouth suddenly dry. "I'm sorry, Pete."

When Helen entered the private hospital room, she hesitated, blinking when she caught sight of Tony. He forced his gaze to meet hers, giving her a ghost of a smile. "Thank you for coming." He told her, putting every ounce of sincerity he could manage into his voice.

"Of course." She told him, a chart in her hand. He stayed at Peter's side as she approached, reading the boy's vitals before nodding to herself. "His enhancement isn't the same as Steve's she told him without preamble. "Do you know how he got his powers?" Tony shook his head. "Okay. I want to start by running a few tests in 24 hours to see if advanced healing is working in his favor. For now, we'll keep him on fluids and pain medication.

"Do…". He cut himself off before deciding to go for it. "Do you think he can hear us? Should I...should I talk to him?"

She pressed her lips together before smiling at him. "It can't hurt."

Tony left the room after some prompting with the promise that he could return in two hours, enough time for Helen to run some of her own tests and for Tony to eat actual food. She had suggested he try to sleep...it was coming up on three in the morning, but Tony had no idea how the hell he was supposed to sleep. He knew what he would dream about.

A mask, lenses wide. A hand reaching out toward him. A head bouncing on concrete.

Instead, he found the cafeteria and downed a cup of coffee so hot it burned his throat going down, but he didn't care. Then he ate toast which met the minimum requirements for food in his book. Grabbing three protein bars on his way out, he had Karen check to see how long before Pepper and May arrived.

Only a couple of hours.

Although he doubted she'd sleep, he booked her a room at the same hotel they'd been staying at, hoping that Pepper would stay with him in his own room. Things between them had been good...then he'd taken a child to a fight between the Avengers and nearly gotten him killed. Tony had to shake that thought off. Peter wasn't going to die. No way. Not on his watch.

Rhodey found him by the coffee machine twenty-two minutes before he would be allowed back into the boy's room. Hospitals had a way of making time seem irrelevant, like a concept with no real meaning, and Tony wondered how long it had been since Rhodey had left to do...well, whatever it was he'd gone to do. Tony didn't want to know, not really...not if it involved Steve.

"Steve and Bucky found the guy that blew up the…"

Tony waved a hand, jaw tight. "I don't care." He whispered. Rhodey sighed, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Tones…"

"I just…brief me later, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay, Tony." Rhodey murmured, leading him over to a bench, and Tony let himself be led. "Natasha and Sam are at the hotel...they should be back in a few hours." Tony didn't care all that much what Sam and Natasha...no. That wasn't true. He cared. Natasha was one of the people he trusted most in the world. One of his best friends. And he'd come to trust Sam Wilson almost as much as he'd trusted Cap.

It just stung, remembering that Sam had been on the other side of that fight. To remember that Nat had let Steve get away. Although, honestly, he didn't care quite as much about that anymore. Steve and Bucky were Ross's problem now. Or...someone's. Not his. At the moment, he needed this kid to wake up. He needed Peter to wake up and hear his apology and he needed Peter to move his legs and talk and prove to Tony that he was going to be okay. That there wasn't irreversible brain damage or spinal damage. And if there was, he needed to know about it right then. He needed to start finding a way to fix it.

Brain damage...no. He wouldn't think about that. Peter didn't have brain damage because he was brilliant and sweet and just a good kid. And he had so much left to do...so much to live for. Tony would make sure of it. So no. He wouldn't think about brain damage. But spinal damage...they could fix that if they had to. Leg braces. Something like what he had in his suit. Something that could help Peter walk. Mechanized just enough that Peter...but he didn't know that he would even need that. Still, he was drawing up plans in his own mind. Desperate, hopeful plans that he prayed he wouldn't need.

"This isn't your fault." Rhodey's voice almost startled him. It seemed as if their silence had stretched for hours. Checking his watch, he signed. He still had eleven minutes before he could go back into Peter's room. "Tony, it wasn't your fault."

"Rhodey…"

"That kid saved my life. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't Sam's or Vision's or...or mine." He spoke as though he didn't quite believe that last part. "Peter chose to save me. Because he's a good kid. People get hurt in battle sometimes."

"There wasn't supposed to be a battle." Tony snapped, not meaning to.

"I know." Rhodey soothed. "But...look, you've got the best medical attention possible for that kid."

"He's...he's only fourteen." Tony murmured, rubbing a hand over his face. "I thought...I thought I needed him. And I did. I needed someone...someone to help me talk some sense into Cap. And...now…"

Rhodey didn't say anything, just squeezed his shoulder, and Tony let himself be comforted for a moment. If felt like he'd been in that hospital with it's off-white walls and stale air and coffee that only sort of deserved to be called that, but in reality, it had only been...less than a day, right? Not yet 24 hours. No way. He checked his watch and fought back a yawn. He didn't have time to be tired. Not yet.

Not until Peter woke up.

"Tony?" Rhodey murmured, and he glanced over at his oldest friend, not wanting to hear the question. Not wanting to have any kind of conversation. All he wanted was to find a lab and start working. Find a project. Lose himself in work. But...he was the one who'd recruited Peter Parker, and now the boy was hurt in a foreign country and the thought of leaving him alone was just...unthinkable. "Who is this kid?"

"Spiderman." Tony answered without hesitation.

"No, I mean...where did you find him?"

"YouTube." For a long moment, Rhodey was silent, and he could just imagine the look on his friend's face. Tony was tired. Tired in a way he hadn't been in a while. Just...so tired. Like he could close his eyes and fall asleep right there on the bench. He didn't want to explain to Rhodey that he'd been keeping tabs on the small-time vigilante for a while. But before he could try and execute that plan, Helen stepped around the corner, charts and tablet in hand. All other conversation forgotten, he jumped to his feet, hurrying over to meet the doctor, Rhodey's footsteps close behind. "Helen?"

"I'll need more time to research his enhancements, but he's stable for now. No change." Helen assured him, keeping her voice soft. Almost sympathetic, as if he deserved her sympathy. "Is his...guardian arriving soon?"

He nodded. "His aunt should be here in a couple of hours. I told her he was in a car accident."

"Okay. For now, all you can do is sit with him. Talking to him probably wouldn't hurt."

He knew that she was just keeping him busy. Keeping him out of the way like he was a toddler. But he didn't care. Nodding, he brushed past her, hurrying to Peter's room, not wanting Peter to be alone for any longer than necessary.

When he reached the boy's room, he took his seat once more, dropping into the chair with a sigh and resting his hand on Peter's on top of the blanket. "Hey kid. I'm back. Don't worry, May is on her way." He swallowed, watching the kid's face for any sign...any signal that he'd heard. "Just rest for now, Pete. It's okay. I'll wait, kiddo." He promised, squeezing Peter's hand, and for a moment, he thought the hand under his twitched. "Peter?"

Silence. And stillness. Tony shook his head, nearly laughing at himself. Peter wasn't conscious. The kid had just had surgery. There was no way he'd be waking up. Still, he kept his hand where it was, scarcely aware of Rhodey stepping into the room behind him. "It's alright, kiddo. You sleep, and I'll keep watch."

And he did.


	4. At the End Of A Frayed Rope

The doctor called it a coma. And he said it like it was a good thing. Like the fact that Peter wasn’t waking up, that Peter hadn’t responded to Tony or his aunt or anyone...like that could possibly be a good thing. The kid who had, in his brief acquaintance with Tony, barely shut up for longer than a few seconds hadn’t spoken or opened his eyes or breathed on his own in days. “Mr...Mr. Stark?” The nurse hovered in the doorway to Peter’s room. She was one he hadn’t seen in the six days they’d been there. 

Six. Fucking. Days.

Every once in a while, the kid’s hand would twitch. Tony would slip his hand into the kids and his fingers would twitch. And Tony would hope. Every single time. And every time, Peter would remain silent. Still. 

“Yeah?” He asked, wiping a hand over his face and trying to give something resembling a smile. 

“I...I need to run some tests.” She gestured to Peter and he nodded. Every afternoon around this time, a nurse would come and ‘run tests.’ Every evening, another nurse would come and move Peter’s arms and legs...something about his muscles. Then Helen would come and look at his chart. Run tests.

Tony left for all of it. He couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t bear to see Peter like that...with other people moving his arms and legs and body, the kid’s face lax around a tube that disappeared down his throat, surrounded by machinery that breathed for him. May would stay. She only left Peter’s side to go to the bathroom or to get food. Shower. The basic necessities. There was a cot set up for her in the corner. While Tony returned to his hotel room with Pepper every night, May stayed at her boy’s side. Maybe she cried. Or talked to him. Tony had no idea. Didn’t know how to ask. 

“Alright, buddy. I’ll leave you with the nurse. Your aunt should be back soon. She just went to grab some lunch...which I should probably do too.” May didn’t want to leave him alone...would only leave the room if Tony was there. But she knew he didn’t stay for sponge baths or tests or physical therapy. Honestly, he didn’t think Peter would want him to.

He found Pepper out in the hallway, her arms crossed, eyes soft as she peered past him into the room. “Tony…” 

“What do you think about lunch?” He asked, clapping his hands together with as much energy as he could muster. It wasn’t much. 

“Have they said anything?” Tony shook his head, sniffing and rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

“Nothing new.” He let her slip an arm through his, resting her palm on his forearm. Like he was the one supporting her instead of the truth...that if it weren’t for her, he would be on the floor. 

“They said it’s a coma?”

“Yeah...apparently that’s a good thing.” He grumbled, and she squeezed his arm. “He’s not responsive...not to anything. May’s been talking to him...me too.” He admitted. It wasn’t something he was ashamed of. The doctor had said it would help...that it might help. Helen and the German doctor had both agreed. And so Tony had talked to him. Apologized. Updated him on the situation as much as he knew...which wasn’t all that much. And when he ran out of updates, he listened to May talk to him. Listened to one-sided conversations that very much should have been personal. And he felt like an intruder. He really did. But he stayed. He stayed when May recounted stories about Ben Parker, the boy’s deceased uncle, and some kid named Ned. He listened to escapades involving Peter and that Ned kid...how the two of them were on the robotics team or something at school. Other stuff too...academic decathlon and band. 

She told him that Ned missed him and told him about the homework he’d have to do, and every time she mentioned school, Tony felt another tug of remorse. Because this was on him. He’d brought the boy here. He’d scoffed at the kid’s mention of homework, and now he’d have to catch up on over a week’s worth. Probably more. 

Tony would help him. Not that he thought Peter needed help...but still. He’d offer. Hang out with the kid while he did it. Hell, he’d do it all for him. Tony could probably use the Chemistry basics refresher. And he’d take it. Gladly. 

Before he knew it, they were leaving the hospital, and he balked at the door, blinking at the sunlight. “What…”

“You’ve been inside all day. You need a break. There’s a restaurant around the corner.”

“Pep…”

“He’ll be okay for a few hours. May is going to be with him.”

“She’s the one you should be dragging out of the hospital.”

“She’s next,” Pepper told him, lips quirked in a bit of a smile. “Rhodey and Happy are waiting for us. We’ll get a bite to eat and then you can come right back.”

He didn’t have the energy to argue, so he nodded, wiping a hand over his eyes and pulling out his sunglasses. He hadn’t left the hospital during the day in...well...days. The sun was blaring down on him and he slipped the dark glasses onto his face and let Pepper drive them to a restaurant a few blocks away. And when he stepped into the restaurant, he found not only Happy and Rhodey, but also Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff sitting at a table. They were all appropriately solemn and quiet and they greeted him with nods and questions about Peter and he wanted to just...scream. He wanted to throw something against the wall and listen to it shatter and scream about how unfair it was that Peter Parker was in a coma a few blocks away...all because of him.

Through a fog, he heard Sam discuss the boy...heard him say the word coma and every bite of whatever the hell he was eating tasted like ash in his mouth. “So they’re on the run.” He blinked, glancing up from his plate of what he was almost sure was chicken. Natasha had her chin in her fist, brows drawn.

“What?” He asked, feeling Pepper rest her hand on his knee, her thumb rubbing comfortably back and forth. 

“Steve and Bucky. They’re on the run. I think they went to Wakanda with King T’Challa.” Sam told him, keeping his voice down. No one around seemed to care, but still...it couldn’t hurt to be careful. Quiet. “He asked if he could speak to you. After I explained…” 

Tony wanted to say no. He wanted to tell them that he didn’t care what Steve was doing or what the Manchurian candidate was up to. He wanted to go back to Peter’s room and he wanted the child to wake up and he wanted to apologize and promise the kid that everything was okay...he wanted to promise May Parker that he would take care of her nephew and her too...that he would fix this. 

“Tony?” Sam asked again, voice a little softer.

“Fine.” He muttered, waving a hand. “He can call. I don’t care.” Rhodey gave him a look and Tony swallowed hard. “I need to get back.”

“Tones, can I have a word?” He asked, pushing himself back from the table. Tony gave a reluctant nod, then followed him out the door of the restaurant, leaving the others to their food. Rhodey led him out to a bench across the street in what looked to be a park. There were trees and a little swing set, and in the corner of the lot, a group of kids kicked a soccer ball, yelling at each other in words Tony couldn't make out and wouldn’t understand if he could. “How you holding up, man?” The question was ridiculous, and Tony’s expression must have reflected that fact. “This wasn’t your fault, Tony.” He murmured, leaning in as Tony rolled his eyes.

“Rhodey…”

“Look, the kid is…”

“Peter is in a coma.” He hissed, jaw tight. “He is fourteen years old and he is in a coma because of me.”

“If we’re playing the blame game over this, then it’s because of me.”

“Rhodey…”

“He got hurt saving me, Tony. And he knew was he was doing.”

“He’s fourteen,” Tony repeated.

“Yeah. He is. And we brought him into a war zone.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be…” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “If he’s not okay…” Tony started, and Rhodey reached out, grabbing his wrist before he could leave.

“You can’t do this to yourself, Tony. That kid needs you...you can’t run yourself down like this. He’s going to need you when he wakes up.”

“What if he doesn’t…”

“Don’t.” Rhodey cut him off before he could say the words he was so afraid of. “You can’t think like that. He’s going to wake up. And in the meantime…” He gestured back towards the table where the others waited in the restaurant. “We need to deal with this. With Ross. He’s trying to have Steve and the others put on the Raft.” 

“If they won’t sign the Accords I don’t know what I can do.”

“We can try to get them abolished. Rewritten. Something. They proved that Bucky wasn’t the one who blew up that building. T’Challa is taking them to Wakanda...they’ll be safer there for the moment.” 

“Wakanda?” Tony frowned, wracking his brain for everything he knew about that country. Small. Rural. Relatively little military defense, if any. How would they be safe there long term? 

“Yeah. I doubt Ross would go after them if they’re under the protection of T’Challa but...it might not be a great long term solution.”

Tony nodded, rubbing a hand over his eyes and pulling his phone out. “Alright. I’m going to make a call to T’Challa. See what he can tell me. Maybe he can help me get this Accords mess taken care of so that I can…”

So that he could what? Sit at Peter’s bedside? Talk to a kid that probably couldn’t hear him...that might not ever wake up? “Okay.” Rhodey nodded, patting him on the shoulder and standing. 

“We’ll be inside.”

When Tony rejoined then, he felt just a little better. There was still a boy in a coma and that was still his fault. But he’d talked to King T’Challa who had agreed to keep the ‘rogue Avengers’ in Wakanda where he had assured him that they would be safe for the moment. Tony had also agreed to speak to Steve at some point in the future, shoving back thoughts of ‘oh, now he wants to talk.’ He was still angry. Still thought about how he’d tried to get Steve to listen...to get him to just sit down and try to see things from Tony’s side. But he had more problems now. Problems like the teenager he was responsible for. 

When he sat back down to his chicken, he could almost taste it.

Sam joined him as he headed back to the hospital while Rhodey went to take care of some military business and Pepper went back to trying to keep his company afloat, her schedule full of online meetings and phone calls. “Has she said anything?” Sam asked as Natasha headed back to the hotel with Happy. “Helen.” Sam clarified. 

“No...she’s running tests practically every day. Bloodwork. Brain scans. She says it’s a coma and says that it could be worse.”

“It could,” Sam told him, voice soft as they entered the hospital through the sliding front doors. A couple of people in the waiting room glanced up as they passed, but none seemed to know or care that the Avengers were spending their days at the hospital. “How come Ross ain’t coming in here after me?” He wondered, the words spilling out as though he’d been holding them for a long time.

Tony hesitated, the two of them stepping into the elevator. Over the last few days, Sam had been an occasional visitor to Peter’s room, explaining medical things to May and letting her tell him all about her beloved nephew, stories that would probably embarrass the kid if he was awake. “He thinks you’re with Steve. Natasha too. Officially, you’re both MIA. He doesn’t know which hospital we’re in, and I don’t plan on telling him.” Sam lifted an eyebrow and Tony shrugged. “You helped me with Peter.” He told him, almost uncomfortable. 

“I wasn’t going to let the kid die, regardless of whose side he was on.” 

“I know.” There was a pause as the elevator ascended and Tony swallowed hard. “I never wanted this.” 

Sam sighed, nodding. “I know.” Tony wanted to explain himself more...to try and make Sam understand, but the man softened. “Me either.” 

And he knew that Sam got it. He’d known the man for years now, and Sam had proven himself to be a good guy, if not kind of irritating at times. But fondly irritating. Tony liked him. Hadn’t wanted to lose him. Or anyone on the team.

“Maybe we can go to Wakanda when this is over,” Sam suggested, following Tony down the route he’d memorized to Peter’s room. Tony’s phone vibrated with a text, then, and he pulled it out to find May’s name, whatever Sam had been about to say lost for the moment. Pausing on his way to the hospital room, he put it up to his ear, Sam hovering beside him. 

“May?”

“Hey, I got a call from my boss.” Tony grimaced, shaking his head. He’d told the man that he would cover May’s salary for the time being if he agreed to let her off. Honestly, he wanted to do more. He was paying for Peter’s medical care, of course, not to mention the trust fund he’d set up as a kind of apology. And the Audi...but he would need to feel out the situation with May before he brought that up. Still, it didn’t feel like enough. 

“Do you need me to talk to him?”

“No, I just have to…” She sighed, cutting herself off. “They’re short, especially this time of year.” Her voice was harried and exhausted, and he wanted to give her a vacation. “He says he needs me back by next week…”

“I can call him. Get him some replacements. I’ll pay them.”

“Tony you don’t have to…” She whispered.

“It’s already done.” He assured her. “I’m on my way back to Peter’s room. I’ll make the call today.” There was a pause, and he heard her take a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Tony…”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in the hotel room. I just needed…” She sniffed, and he could imagine her wiping her eyes. Dropping onto a bed, head limp. He’d gotten her a hotel room in the same hotel they’d all been staying in down the road...this was her first time using it. “I’ll be right back.”

“Stay.” He murmured. “In the hotel room. Get some rest. Get some real food. I’ll stay with Peter.” The silence told him that she was actually considering it, which almost surprised him. “Really. Get room service. It’s all on my tab. And sleep in a real bed tonight. I’ll stay with him.” 

“Is...is he going to wake up?” She asked, voice finally breaking a little. It wasn't a surprise. Not really. He was surprised that she'd lasted this long. Tony closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. What the hell was he supposed to say? 

“I don’t know, May.” He whispered. “I...I’m going to do everything I can. So will my medical team.”

The sound of May Parker sobbing on the other end of the line, exhausted and broken and at the very end of a frayed rope would probably feature in his nightmares right along with Peter...right along with him falling.

Arm outstretched.

Head bouncing.

But what could he say? What could he tell her? He closed his eyes, leaning against the wall outside of the boy’s room. He wasn't equipped for this. Didn't know what to say. Before he could give it a try, Sam touched his shoulder. Opening his eyes again, he found Sam, his hand out. “Um...Sam...he wants to…” He trailed off, handing the phone over and staying by the wall as Sam took a step away. 

“Mrs. Parker? Hey, it’s Sam. Listen, you get some rest. We’re going to take care of Peter, okay?” He paused, and Tony could only assume that she was speaking. “I know. It’s hard right now. That kid, he’s tough. He’ll pull through.”

Unable to listen to Sam tell May Parker what very well could be a lie while her nephew was in a coma because of him, Tony left him in the hall, stepping into the boy’s room and shutting the door behind him. For a moment, he just leaned there, closing his eyes, taking deep breaths. Doing his very best to put himself together. Because he had to. He had to be strong while May was falling apart. Peter needed someone to be strong. 

And there, back against the door, he opened his eyes and froze, his breath catching. 

Peter was staring at him.


	5. Dazed and Confused

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I’m not a doctor. Or at all versed in the medical profession. So if any of this is inaccurate, just...suspend your disbelief :) You can attribute it to Peter being enhanced or something.

Tony knew that sometimes people opened their eyes while in a coma. Or...whatever you called it at that point. He didn't have an MD. But he'd seen movies and some of those doctor shows. Sometimes those people opened their eyes and even blinked but that didn't mean they were conscious. Just like Peter's twitching, the way he'd sometimes close his fingers just a little around Tony's didn't mean that he knew Tony was there. Regardless of how much Tony spoke to him or held his hand. No matter how much time May spent at his side, telling him stories and telling him over and over how much she loved him. None of that meant anything if the boy didn't wake up.

Tony took a deep breath, wiping his eyes and shaking his head. He couldn't let himself get his hopes up now. Peter wasn't awake. The boy hadn't responded to them in days. According to Helen, he might not wake up for days. Weeks. And every day that the boy didn't wake up, Tony was forced to face the fact that he might not wake up at all. He was...he was seeing things. Wishful thinking. Hallucinating. Maybe someone had drugged his chicken.

But when Tony opened his eyes, Peter was still staring at him. The kid's head turned just a little, and then one of his hands started to move, slowly reaching for the tube in his mouth. That finally jerked Tony out of his stupor. "No...no, kiddo...don't…" He hurried to the boy's side, catching his wrist as carefully as he could as if squeezing too hard would break the kid. As if Peter didn't have super strength. "Don't, Pete. You...you're okay." There were tears filling the boy's huge eyes and dripping down his cheeks, his chest heaving as he fought the ventilator, horrible, stifled noises crawling out of his throat as he whimpered and grunted. Tony felt his stomach clench, nausea threatening to choke him.

He shoved it back. Not now. He couldn't lose it now. Peter needed him.

"It's okay." He murmured, surprised that he didn't have to struggle to make his voice gentle. It just came out that way. "Hey...hey, look at me, bud." The boy was shaking, his hands clenching at his sides, and Tony grabbed for the call button, pushing it before resting his hands on Peter's shoulders, meeting the boy's gaze head on. "It's me, kid. It's Tony. You're okay. You...you're alright." He choked out, his own eyes filling. But he wasn't going to cry. Not now. Now when Peter needed him to be strong. The boy made another noise, not seeming to hear him as he seemed to choke, gurgling and crying, and it was almost worse than seeing him fall. Almost worse than watching Rhodey pull his mask up and see the line of blood running from his nose.

"It's okay, Peter." He whispered. "Just let it breathe for you. You're okay. We'll get the doctor in here."

The boy's eyes shot around the room, whimpering around the vent, chest heaving as he suddenly struggled to sit up and Tony felt his own heart race. "Peter." He tried again, speaking firmly now. "Buddy...come on. Look at me, Pete. It's me. It's Tony Stark. Do you know who I am?" Peter's limbs came to rest at his sides, hands still shaking as he stared up at Tony with wide, terrified eyes. And Tony felt bad for a moment. The kid was scared, and Tony had no idea what he remembered or whether or not the drugs were doing something to him...making it hard for him to think.

Slowly, the boy gave a nod, letting him know that at least he knew who Tony was. Now whether or not he knew him because they had met or because he was Iron Man, he had no idea. But for the moment, at least Peter was hearing him. "Good. Good…" Tony smiled, and the expression felt natural. Like comforting was something that he could actually do. "I'm glad, buddy. Just stay still...let the machine breathe for you for now. Maybe the doctor can take it out...I don't know yet. Just try and stay calm for me, okay? Don't fight it." Peter blinked, sniffing, and another tear dripped down his cheek.

Tony reached out, wiping a thumb under his eyes, brushing the tear away just as Helen stepped into the room. Peter stiffened, and Tony cupped the side of the kid's face. "You're okay, Pete. This is Helen Cho. She's a doctor...a friend of mine. You're safe, bud. I'm right here."

There was no reason for that to calm Peter down. The words came out without him really thinking about them. He just wanted to comfort the boy. The smart, sweet, orphaned kid that looked up to him so much. This was Tony's fault. He knew that. Accepted it. Bore the weight of it. Peter should hate him. Should blame him for all of this. But for the moment, the kid seemed to relax, whimpering again, but not fighting. Instead, he nodded just a little, eyes glued to Tony as though he was going to leave.

He wasn't. Hell, he had no idea how he could leave this kid's side until he was on his feet again. Just that thought made his heart clench. What if Peter never got back on his feet again?

Tony shoved that thought down, shifting out of Helen's way. The boy's eyes followed and without seeming to think about it, he reached out, gripping his hand. "I'm right here, Pete. Not going anywhere." Surprisingly he seemed to relax, nodding again, and his eyes drifted back to Helen who smiled, eyes soft as she moved a little closer. "Hello, Peter. It's good to see you awake. Do you think you could answer a couple of questions for me?" He brought a hand up to the tube in his mouth and she smiled. "I think it would be safe to remove that, yes. I'm sure it's uncomfortable."

Considering the fact that Peter had been crying when he'd woken up, he thought that maybe 'uncomfortable' was an understatement. Still, he stayed out of the way, squeezing Peter's hand as Helen instructed him to cough. He had to look away when the tube came out of his throat...it seemed to go on forever, and finally, when it was done, Peter kept coughing, the noise weak and painful sounding. Helen held a glass of water to the boy, pointing the straw between his lips.

Tony slipped a hand under his head, surprised once more at how natural it felt. He'd been in this stupid room for so long...he'd sat in that same chair, holding the kid's hand, talk to him, knowing in some part of him that Peter might never wake up. And now that he was awake. The boy was awake and sipping at water through a straw, eyes at half-mast like he might drop back into a coma at any point. Tony prayed that he wouldn't. "There you go, kid." He found himself saying as if watching himself from a distance. "Take a second." Helen's eyes flickered over to him, then back to Peter. "Does it hurt?" He asked, surprising himself with the question.

Peter's eyes darted over to him as though he too were surprised by the question. Still, he only hesitated a second before nodding a little, apparently too exhausted to try and downplay it.

"You don't have to talk right now. I just need to ask you a couple of questions. Can you squeeze Tony's hand?" She asked, and Peter did, fingers curling lightly around Tony's. It was all Tony had wanted, but like the selfish person he was, he wanted more. He wanted the kid to move his legs. Show them that he could walk. Sit up. Stand up. Prove that he was okay. "Now can you squeeze my hand?" She asked, taking his other one. The boy did, and Tony thought she was going to test his legs next. Instead, she wrote something on her clipboard. "Good. You're doing great. Now, squeeze Tony's hand once for yes, and twice for no. Do you understand?" Tony felt the boy squeeze his hand once and Helen nodded. "Good job, Peter. Do you know where you are?"

Two squeezes.

"That's okay. You're in a hospital in Germany. Do you remember what happened?"

The boy opened his mouth as if to speak, but all that came out was a painful sounding croak, and Tony winced at the sound of it, squeezing his hand as if to remind him that he didn't need to talk. But the kid was determined. "I…" He choked out. "I can't...I'm…" His eyes were drooping, hand starting to go limp in Tony's, and he had to fight the urge to shake him.

"Hey...just a second, buddy. Try and stay with us." He nearly begged, and Peter's eyes flashed to him.

"Why…" He croaked, swallowing hard and wincing. "Mr. Stark?" He was scared. Tony had never seen Peter Parker scared, not really. Not like this. Not full of outright terror, lip trembling, eyes filling with tears. It was something he never wanted to see again.

"It's okay. You're safe, Peter. Everything's okay. You're going to be fine." He spoke as though he had any say in the matter. As though he could make Peter okay just by saying it was so. Peter blinked a few times, eyes going absent and unfocused. Reaching out the hand that wasn't holding Peter's, Tony tapped him on the cheek as lightly as he could. "Pete?"

Slowly, Peter's eyes focused on Tony. He blinked a few more times, then looked away, just for a second, before his eyes shot back to the man at his bedside. "Mr...Mr. Stark?" He asked, sounding just as panicked as before, and Tony felt his stomach drop. Peter didn't say it like he was scared. He was saying it like he was confused.

"Yeah, buddy. I'm still here with you. It's okay."

"Peter." Helen cut in, leaning closer. "Peter, do you know where you are?" The boy shook his head, taking a shuddering breath, and Tony felt his stomach drop.

No.

"Do you know…"

"I...I want Ben...I…" He closed his eyes, sobbing, and Tony gripped his hand, leaning in and wiping a tear away as his own eyes grew hot.

"It's okay, buddy. It's alright. Just...hey, Pete. Look at me." The boy did, gazing up at him through eyes filled with tears. "You know who I am, Pete?" The boy hesitated, then nodded.

"Mr...Mr. Stark." He rasped.

"That's right, kid. I'm right here with you." Tony murmured, smiling. "I'm not going anywhere. Just breathe, Pete."

"Tony…" Helen murmured, sounding grim. Sounding...sad. He didn't want to know. Didn't want to do anything but hold this kid's hand...or follow the other side of his brain and run. Run far away. Leave Peter a few million dollars and design a new Iron Man suit and do his best to forget that Peter Parker had ever existed. How else was he supposed to cope with this?

Instead, he gripped Peter's hand a little tighter. "Yeah?" He asked, using his sleeve to wipe Peter's cheek, wondering where in the hell that instinct had come from.

"I'd like to take him for an MRI." Moving over to Peter's side, the doctor smiled gently, her entire expression softening. "Peter?" The boy made an effort to compose himself, swallowing and looking up at her. "I need to run a couple of tests if that's okay."

"Okay…" Peter slurred, glancing over at Tony in confusion. As if he didn't know why the man was there.

"Do you want Tony to stay with you?" Peter blinked at her, then over at Tony, not seeming to understand the question.

"Can...can I sleep?" He asked, eyes drooping, and Helen nodded despite the fact that Tony never wanted Peter to sleep again.

"Of course. Get some more sleep, Peter. We'll be here when you wake up."

"Okay." And with that last rasp, the boy was unconscious.

"Helen…" Tony started, finally letting his fear show.

"It could be a reaction from the anesthesia." She told him, cutting him off before he could freak out. "It looked like he had an absence seizure. It's not uncommon after a traumatic brain injury to experience seizures, but I still want him to have an MRI."

"He...he had a seizure?"

"It wasn't severe and it only lasted for a few seconds. He remembers who you are. That's a good sign."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm famous, Helen. Everyone knows who I am." He spat, voice a little bitter. One cold look from her had him swallowing back the rest of that speech.

"Why don't you go inform his aunt that he woke up but that he's asleep right now and that I'm taking him for testing. The MRI should only take an hour."

"Can I go with him?" She hesitated. "I can't...I don't want him to wake up alone, Helen."

She signed, nodding. "Of course. But someone needs to inform his aunt…"

"She just went back to the hotel to get some sleep. She's exhausted." He didn't want to say the rest. That she was at the end of her rope and about to shatter and he didn't think she could handle seeing her nephew like this unless she got some sleep. Helen gave him a look like she was about to argue but just nodded. "I'll call her in a few hours. I just wanted to let her get some sleep."

They rolled Peter's bed down the hall to the MRI, the signs on the walls incomprehensible to him. It didn't matter. All that mattered was staying at Peter's side and hoping that he woke up again...that he didn't drop back into an unconsciousness that would last for another week. Tony didn't think any of them could take that.

The machine was loud. Tony sat at Peter's side, holding his hand as Helen started at a computer a few feet away. He'd held the kid's hand for so long that he practically had it memorized...every line and freckle, the way it fit easily into his. Bitten nails growing out thanks to days spent asleep. A scar over the back of one knuckle and another on one palm.

That left hand started to twitch when the test was nearly done, fingers tightening and relaxing over Tony's, and he hoped the boy wouldn't wake up inside the machine. Most of his injuries had taken care of themselves, although he was probably still sore and still. Still, Tony didn't want him to start thrashing around and hurt himself.

He squeezed Peter's hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of his knuckles, brushing over the raised scar the size of a dime. The kid relaxed a little then, squeezing back, then relaxing, and Tony hoped he would sleep at least until Helen had gotten him out of there.

He did wake as they were rolling him out of the machine, eyes fluttering and staring at the ceiling, eyes blinking slowly as he watched the lights flicker above his head. "Peter? Can you hear me?" Helen asked, touching his arm. Slowly, the kid's eyes shifted to her, confusion morphing into fear.

"I don't…". He murmured, shaking his head, his sentence trailing off. The kid started to sit up, then dropped back down on the pillow, limbs moving weakly...it wasn't like him. Peter was strong, Tony knew that much. So freaking strong. Emotionally and physically. It was hard to see him like this...to see this kid who was a superhero, who swung around Queens in his pajamas helping people, so dazed and weak. It turned his stomach. Made his eyes heat up. But he can't. Not now.

"You're alright, Peter. My name is Helen. Do you remember waking up earlier?"

"I…". The kid hesitated, then looked over at Tony. "Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah, Pete," Tony answered immediately, doing his best to push down that icy terror that threatened to choke him.

"What's going on?" He asked, eyes going from Tony to the doctor to the huge white machine behind him.

"There was an accident, kiddo. You're okay." Tony assured him, the gentle tone automatic, feeling as natural as anything. "I'm right here. Your aunt is asleep, but she'll be here soon."

The boy blinked, apparently trying to take it all in. "My head hurts." He finally slurred, eyes rolling back, and Tony gripped his hand more tightly.

"Pete…"

"Tony, move." Helen murmured, grabbing one of his eyelids and then cursing under her breath. "You have to go."

"No…" He whispered, trying to push past her. Because nurses were coming in and he was being rolled away and Tony felt sick...like his whole body was shutting down...he couldn't leave the kid's side. He'd promised May! He'd promised himself...he'd told the kid that he would be there! "I can't…"

"Tony, you have to go. You have to let me help him."

"But what's...what's wrong? What's happening?"

"Tony, I need you to wait outside." Something started beeping and he tried to push past her, but she grabbed his arm, practically dragging Tony out of the room. He stumbled back, flinching at the finger she pointed at his face. When she saw his expression, she softened, eyes darting back to "We need to get him into surgery. Something showed up on the scan."

"Is he going to be okay?" He demanded.

"I...I have to go help him, Tony. That's what you brought me here for, right? Call his aunt. Tell her that he's in surgery." Surgery. Again. How many fucking surgeries was that fourteen-year-old kid going to have to have this month?

"Helen…" He was barely able to get her name out before she was pulling him out of the way, watching Peter's bed roll by, surrounded by nurses and doctors. He couldn't even see him...couldn't see his buzzed head that still looked so strange or the hands he'd held for so many hours...all he saw was the bed, rolling away, surrounded by doctors and nurses that Helen trusted and that he tried to trust. But they were taking the kid away! Again! How the hell was he supposed to understand if no one told him anything?

"I'll tell you as soon as we know something, I promise." She murmured, touching his arm before turning away.

Taking a shaky step back, Tony watched her rush after Peter's bed, his back slamming into the wall. Hands trembling, he gripped his left wrist, letting himself slide down the wall until he was sitting down on the hospital floor that was probably covered in germs even he had never heard of, staring at the last place he'd seen Peter's bed long after it was gone.


	6. Come Together

Rhodey was kneeling in front of him. Tony wasn't sure when the man had arrived, or when he'd placed a hand on his shoulder. His oldest friend looked worried. Afraid. But al Tony felt was tired. So, debilitatingly tired. Like he'd been holding something up for so long and now it was crumbling around him and...and there was nothing he could do. No promises he could make, no amount of money he could spend...no way to save the boy.

Peter Parker. Genius orphan superhero. All Tony could see when he closed his eyes was a slideshow of his own failures. His failure to stop Steve on his own. His failure to catch Peter...the boy's head bouncing on the tarmac. His failure to comfort him, Peter's huge brown eyes so afraid and confused. Failure, he told himself, putting a hand over his mouth.

"Tony!" Rhodey squeezed his shoulder, leaning in closer in the empty hallway. "What happened? Where's the kid? Is he okay?"

"I don't know."

"What?" His friend demanded.

"They...he woke up and he was confused and then Helen got an MRI and he woke up again and he...he just passed out and she took him to surgery."

"Did she tell you what happened?" Tony shook his head. "How long ago?"

"I don't know." Rhodey grabbed his wrist, tapping the watch face.

"Friday, how long ago did they take Peter?"

"Approximately 32 minutes ago. He is currently undergoing surgery for a brain bleed." Tony wasn't sure if Friday had gotten that information from Helen or if she'd broken into the hospital records. Either way, it made him want to throw up.

"Okay." Rhodey nodded, gripping his arm. "Tones, the kid is alive. He's in surgery with Helen."

Sure, Peter was alive. And yeah, that was great. Ideal. Exactly what Tony wanted. But then he remembered the way Peter had looked...the way he'd…

"Tony!" Rhodey shook him a little. "He's okay, Tony. Just...take a breath." Tony tried to obey, his breathing ragged. "Come on. Let's get off the floor, man." Pulling gently, he urged Tony to his feet, his knees feeling weak, like they might buckle at any moment. "We can't do anything for him right now. He's in the best hands possible. That's why you hired her."

Tony nodded, following Rhodey into the other room, and the two of them headed into what seemed to be a private waiting room. Dropping into a chair, he placed his head in his hands, taking deep breaths. Trying to pull it together. Once more, some part of him wondered if he should just get out. Cut ties. Just...hope that the kid got better and run. Because it would hurt less. Would be so much less scary if he could just forget about Peter Parker. But then he thought about the boy, how he'd looked when Tony had met him for the first time. How Tony had promised him that he'd be there...he'd promised!

"I promised him…" Tony whispered, and Rhodey put a hand on his back. Footsteps approached and someone sat beside him, another hand on his back. Smaller. Lighter. Just as familiar. "I promised him I'd stay with him, Pep."

"You can't stay with him while he's in surgery, Tony. He would know that."

"He was scared. When he woke up, he was scared and confused and he didn't know what was happening…". The kid had been so afraid...he'd looked so small and so young and so scared...

Pepper shifted beside him, wrapping an arm around him, and he turned, clinging to her, his face buried in her neck. Taking deep breaths. Trying to find calm. "You'll be with him as soon as he's out of surgery." She reminded him, and he wondered if Rhodey had called her...wondered what time it was. Ever since he'd walked into the boy's room to find his eyes open, time had seemed to fall away. He didn't know where anyone was or where they'd taken Peter other than the fact that he was in surgery with Helen and…

"Tony." Pepper had pulled away a little, a hand on his cheek. She looked so sad. Fully of pity and pain and so many other things he couldn't name. He took a deep breath, wiping a hand over his face.

"I need to call his aunt."

"She just went to sleep. Let her rest. You need to rest too." She pulled his head down onto her shoulder, letting him lean on her, her arm around him, and for just a moment, he closed his eyes, fighting to breathe. Fighting to keep it all straight. He'd called T'Challa. He'd talked to Sam. Steve was in hiding. He was going to try and fix the Accords. Peter was in surgery because his brain was bleeding and he was fourteen and a child and it was Tony's fault.

Suddenly he was blinking, sitting up a little, disoriented and confused. Pepper hadn't moved, her arm still around him, but he thought that time had passed. "Pep?"

"Hey." She leaned in, kissing his cheek like he was a child, and he took her hand, squeezing it before looking around the room. Rhodey was still beside him, engrossed in a book, but he glanced up when Tony sat up, stretching his back and groaning. Across from him, Natasha was scrolling through her tablet, looking grim and tired, but smiling when he met her eyes.

"What time is it?" He asked, glancing at his watch despite the question. Nearly 5 o'clock. How had it gotten to be 5 o'clock?

"You only slept for a little while. You needed some rest." She murmured, eyes full of worry for him...as though he were the one in surgery. As though he were the one that had fallen. "Happy is going to check on May. She's probably still asleep. She's going to make herself sick if she doesn't get some rest, and so are you."

Before he could think of a retort, Sam was entering the room, take-out bags hanging off both arms, and a plastic sack in one hand. "Who wants dinner?" It was said so softly and with such forced cheer that Tony might have laughed if his stomach hadn't growled. The man snorted a little at that, but without any real effort.

Nat stood and helped him divvy up the take-out, which turned out to be cheeseburgers and fries, all deliciously greasy looking after all of the lousy hospital food he'd been eating. Tony murmured his thanks when he was handed a bag with a burger and fries, and a bottle of soda from the plastic sack. Pepper had the same, as did Rhodey and Nat, and they all ate in silence for a while, the only sounds chewing and the soft hiss of bottles being opened.

Tony was halfway through a cheeseburger before he knew it, mechanically chewing and only sort of tasting it. It was fine, but he couldn't focus. For days it had felt like his brain was fragmented, pulled in a thousand directions and he couldn't focus on any of them. There were Peter and May, and the team. The accords. His company, which Pepper was trying to take care of while he self-destructed. The legality of them being in a foreign country with a minor who didn't even have a passport. And then, as his brain struggled to take all of that in while he ate, Helen stepped back into the room.

She was wearing a fresh lab coat. Her face was stoic. Nothing given away about Peter or his condition or how he was doing or if he'd survived. She just stood there. Waiting. He swallowed his panic and his terror and his hope and then he swallowed the bite he'd just taken. Helen looked as exhausted as Tony felt, circled under her eyes, hair in a frazzled bun. Pulling his fries out of the bag, he stood and moved to join her, barely noticing that no one followed.. Holding out the container, he relaxed when she smiled a bit, grabbing one and taking a bite, then sighing and closing her eyes at the taste. She'd been in surgery with him for hours. He knew she must be starving.

"Is he…" Tony started, sure that he could get through that sentence, but then faltering.

"He's resting now. There was a bleed that we missed, which might have been causing some of the confusion, combined with the medication he was on. There is still significant damage, but it seems to be healing."

"Will he...will he wake up again?"

"I can't promise you anything." She told him, both of their voices just above a whisper. "But in my opinion, yes. I believe he will." She placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, and he handed her the fries, blinking back heat in his eyes. This was dangerous, this hope. It would crush him if he wasn't careful. "Do you want to sit with him?" She asked, and he was nodding almost before she got the words out.

"Yeah."

He'd promised to be there.

She spoke as she led him back to the room. "We are still seeing spinal damage, but at the rate he's healing, it might not be much of an issue. He may be back at full mobility with just some physical therapy. Patients with traumatic brain injuries sometimes suffer long-lasting effects, but we won't know much in the way of specifics until he's awake and communicating with us."

That was all Tony wanted at the moment. For Peter to be awake. Communicating. To prove that he was going to be okay. That Tony wouldn't have to add this to the list of things that he'd broken. "Tony." Helen's soft voice surprised him, and he paused beside her outside of Peter's room. For a moment, he was terrified that she was going to give him bad news. That she had pulled him away to tell him something...something terrible. Something painful. Instead, she gave him a soft smile. "I really think he's going to be okay." She murmured, a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm going to sit with him. Why don't you get some real food." She squeezed his shoulder, then turned and strode away with the fries he'd given her.

Tony stepped into Peter's room and flinched at the sight of the boy. He looked smaller now. Bandages were wrapped around his bald head, showing only peeks of his buzzed skull. Swallowing and forcing his legs to move...forcing his eyes not to catalog the new wires and tubes and oxygen mask, he sat in his usual chair, reaching out and touching Peter's cold hand. "Hey...hey buddy." He murmured, tapping his thumb on Peter's knuckles. "I'm back. Sorry...Helen wouldn't let me come with you." He took a long, deep breath, and forced a smile. "I...I wish you'd wake up, bud. We need to have a talk...about your suit, which I want you to keep. About your place on this team, which you've earned. About...about an internship. With me."

The boy's hand twitched in his, fingers tightening over his, and Tony tried not to be hopeful. Peter had just come out of surgery. He'd been through this before. So, pushing hopes of the boy waking and looking at him and actually being aware of his surroundings back, he kept talking. He talked about May, and how she was just taking a nap. How she'd be back. How much she loved him and how strong she was being. How Peter didn't need to worry about her. He talked about the accords and Wakanda and King T'Challa. About his lab and his bots. About anything and everything he could think of to share with the kid. He just needed noise, and his own voice would work just fine.

When he finally stopped talking and glanced at the clock, it was almost seven. He shot May a quick text, letting her know that he was still with Peter, and that Helen has taken him to surgery, but that he was fine. Tony made sure to emphasize that part, adding what Helen had said. Then he sent Happy a text, asking if he had seen May.

The buzzing of his phone took him by surprise, and he stared at the name for a moment before answering one-handed, his hand still holding Peter's.

"Hello?" He answered, voice somewhat short.

"Tony?"

"Yeah."

Steve exhaled, and when he spoke, his voice was rueful. "I didn't think you'd answer."

He looked down at the boy in the hospital bed and shook his head. "I can't talk long."

"I just...I know Sam's keeping you updated. I wanted to see how the kid was doing."

The kid. It made Tony flinch to hear the familiar term said in Steve's voice. That's what he called Peter. "I'm with Spiderman. He's...he's going to be okay." Tony wasn't 100% sure if that was true. He wanted to believe that Helen was right. That he'd be fine. But he knew that he wouldn't believe it until he saw it. Still, none of this was Steve's business.

The boy's hand twitched in his and Tony squeezed again, thumb rubbing his knuckles. "Tony, I'm so sorry…"

"Save it, Spangles." Tony snapped, wishing he didn't sound so angry. Wishing he could keep himself from starting another fight with Steve. But he just couldn't stop himself. Not when Peter was unconscious, an oxygen mask over his face.

"I never meant for this to happen."

Tony didn't have any spare energy for this. Not now. "Yeah, okay. We're going to work with T'Challa...try to get all of this sorted out. I'll send a telegram if we ever get it figured out."

"I didn't call to fight."

"Then why did you call?" Tony wondered, watching as Peter's nose twitched under the mask, lips pulling back into a grimace before relaxing. Surely Peter wouldn't be waking up. Not now. Not just after surgery.

"I wanted to know if the kid was okay."

"The kid's going to be okay," Tony told him, voice flat.

"Tony…"

"Oh, now you want to talk." He snorted, his voice bitter. Whatever Steve said next was lost to him, because the boy tightened his hand around Tony's, mumbling something under the oxygen mask that Tony didn't catch. "Unfortunately for you, the kid needs me. So you'll have to wait." He told the man, hitting the end button and leaning forward. "Pete?"

The boy groaned again, squeezing Tony's hand and then releasing, eyes scrunching and relaxing.

"I'm here, kiddo. Hey…" He squeezed Peter's hand again, moving closer. "Peter? Can you hear me?"

"Mhm," Peter muttered, turning his head a little, and Tony wanted to press a hand to his cheek. Wanted to plead with the boy to open his eyes and speak to him. Instead, he waited for a moment, then spoke again, voice gentle. Coaxing. Almost unfamiliar.

"Peter, can you hear me? Underoos?"

There was another grunt, and then...then his eyes were opening. And it didn't make sense but Tony would take it because those big brown eyes were looking up at him, confused but not afraid. Not yet. Under the oxygen mask, his lips moved, forming words that Tony didn't understand until the kid coughed a little, clearing his throat. And then, his voice was raspy and painful, but he could hear it.

"Mr. Stark?"


	7. I'm Waking Up

Peter had been...swimming.

No. Not swimming.

Floating.

Drifting.

Dreaming?

Thoughts had come to him. Images. Sensations in bits and pieces that seemed to float away as soon as he identified them. Pain. That one had happened a few times. Stabbing pain and an ache that persisted then disappeared. A hand holding his. If he focused and focused and fought through the fog he found himself in, sometimes, he could squeeze it. Just a little...just a curl of his fingers. But that hand was always there.

And voices. He could hear them sometimes. Usually just a murmur, the sound coming through more than the individual words. A soft, background humming that comforted him. Sometimes it was a woman. Other times, it was a man. Both were comforting. And sometimes, he would catch words. Words like 'love' and 'promise' and 'okay.' They were words that he didn't know the meaning of, but he liked them. Felt comforted by them. Because he didn't know where he was. Didn't know why he was standing or drifting or floating in a fog that he couldn't escape. Nothing made sense, and that in itself was a weird feeling. Things always made sense to him.

Almost always.

So he would try to puzzle them out. To remember how he'd gotten to a place where there was only fog. But every memory he reached for slipped away like smoke, disappearing into the fog, and he was so tired...too tired to keep reaching. So he just was for a while. Just existed. Waited. Because someone would get him, right?

People touched him. Moved his arms. Moved his legs. Washed him. Warm water on his skin that felt nice but also strange. Because something about that was different...did other people wash him? It didn't seem like something that happened, but also, he could feel it sometimes. Other times, he felt nothing. Just...fog. Darkness. Rest that wasn't restful. A poke in his skin and more rest with a rushing warmth. Something in his throat that scratched and hummed but that he couldn't fight.

He didn't know how long the fog held him. But then, he was aware. A voice. Speaking to someone else that he could barely hear. The words were too far away to catch, but he could make out some of them. 'Kid.' 'Steve.' Those meant nothing to him. He reached out with his mind, trying to remember what they might mean. Tried to feel something with the body he was sure he had, and his hand tightened around someone else's.

"Underoos?"

With that word came a feeling. Familiarity. Awe. Respect and hope and...just a little nervousness. Maybe fear. These things washed over him as he opened his eyes, the fog retreating as the light became brighter.

He wanted to speak but couldn't remember how. A noise that seemed to scrape his throat that was already sore escaped, then another. But nothing much came out. A man sat beside him, the warm hand holding his as familiar as anything. It had been there, in the fog, he realized. The hand had been there for as long as he could remember.

"Mr. Stark?" He finally figured out how to make his mouth form the words, and with the slurred sound came a rush of memories. An apartment. A man eating a walnut date loaf. His aunt...May! Where was May? And where...where was he?

The man across from him was Tony Stark. Iron Man. But...how did he know Iron Man? Because he must. The man had been holding his hand and he'd been in his room but this...no, this wasn't his room. "Yeah. Hi." Mr. Stark squeezed his hand, giving him a smile that was all hope and relief. He didn't say anything else, just looked at Peter like he was the answer to a question that he'd been waiting for.

"What…?" Peter started, fighting the urge to try and push the oxygen mask off, but his arms were weighted down as if with lead and he didn't think he had the energy to even try. Anyway, that word pretty much covered it. What? What was happening? What was he doing here? What was Iron Man doing here?

Also, where was May?

The man opened his mouth, then hesitated. Glanced over at something Peter couldn't see, then back at him. Swallowing and flinching at the feel of it, Peter moved his eyes as far as they would go without moving his head, finding himself staring at a table beside him. On it was a pitcher of water and he thought about moving his arm to grab it. But he couldn't make himself move more than an inch or so, fingers twitching.

"Here." Mr. Stark reached over, pouring a glass of water, then shifting closer, a hand under Peter's neck, easing him up. Lifting the oxygen mask and slipping another pillow behind his neck, Mr. Stark placed a straw to his lips. "Drink, kiddo." Peter did, swallowing the wait and closing his eyes in relief. "Easy, bud. Not too fast."

Once he was done, the man eased him back onto the pillow, then squeezed his shoulder. "I'm gonna call for the doctor, okay?" Doctor?

"What?" He asked again, and the man hesitated, his hand out of sight for a moment before it came back to Peter's shoulder.

"Do...do you remember what happened, Pete?"

Words were hard, and Peter blinked, grimacing as he tried to make himself speak. "I...what...Mr. Stark…" His voice wasn't right...just a little slurred. Slightly off. "I…"

"It's alright, kid." The man smiled a little, but it looked forced. "You're in the hospital. The doctor is on her way. You're okay." It was hard to keep up with his words, but Peter tried. And then there was a woman in the room, holding something and looking at the monitors that he couldn't quite see.

"Peter? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," he murmured, trying to nod. Even that movement was hard, so he let his head drop.

"Do you know where you are?"

He blinked, trying to get it straight. Mr. Stark had just told him. "Hospital." The man at his side smiled, letting out a breath, and the doctor nodded.

"That's right. You're in a hospital. Do you remember what happened?"

"No."

"Do you know this man?" She asked, gesturing to Iron Man.

"Mr. Stark."

"That's right. How do you know Mr. Stark?"

"I...he...he was at my apartment…". Peter slurred a little, the words hard to form, and some of the relief slipped from Tony Stark's face. Still, when the doctor looked at the man, he nodded.

"Okay." She smiled, moving a little closer to the bed. "That's right. Is that all you remember?"

"Nuts…" He murmured, fingers twitching around the warm hand holding his. It made him feel safe, he realized. Comfortable. Turning his head a little, he stared up at the man who was watching him as if he might disappear. "Bread..." He could picture the thing in his mind, and he screwed up his face in frustration, unable to make the words happen. "Bread…" He repeated, but before the doctor could speak, Mr. Stark cut in.

"Walnut date loaf." He said with a half smile. "His aunt gave me a piece of walnut date loaf when I first came to his apartment. That's right, kid."

"Do you remember why Tony was at your apartment? Or how you were injured?"

Peter shook his head, just a little. It was impossible to do any more. It scared him that he couldn't remember, and Mr. Stark must have seen that in his face. "It's alright, Pete. It's okay if you don't remember. We can fill you in when you're feeling better."

"Where…" Peter started, his tongue feeling thick and clumsy. It was irritating, and he felt a rush of frustration before a thumb rubbed over his knuckles, gentle and persistent. "May?"

"Your aunt was just getting some rest. But she's on her way. She'll be here soon."

"She's okay?" He asked. Those words were a little easier.

"She's fine. Just tired."

Peter wanted to ask how he'd been hurt. Wanted to know what had happened. But the doctor was talking to Mr. Stark, then she was taking his blood and checking his eyes and feeling his head, and he was being given more water. Through it all, Mr. Stark held his hand. Stayed at his side. Gave quick, reassuring smiles when Peter looked at him. Gave the occasional 'you're doing great, Pete,' right when Peter started to worry that the couldn't take any more.

The footsteps coming down the hall were too fast, and Peter narrowed his eyes, turning his head as best he could to catch a glance at the door. Mr. Stark looked up too, and eased his hand out of Peter's, giving him a smile when Peter jerked his head up to look at him. "Just getting out of the way, Pete." The man told him, and then May was there.

May was crying.

Peter stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, struggling to get an arm up and around his aunt who was leaning over his bed, her cheek next to his, her hands hovering over his shoulders. "Baby?" She asked, voice cracking, and he flinched at the sound of her voice. She sounded exhausted and desperate and so, so sad. "Peter?"

"Hey, May." He all but whispered, closing his eyes when her whole body shook with a sob.

"Oh god...Peter…" She whimpered, holding him so carefully, then her head shot up as she spun to face the doctor who had taken a step back. "Is he okay? He's awake...is he okay?"

"We're going to need to get another MRI, but it seems as if he is aware of what is going on and he is retaining information. He does not remember the car accident, but that's not uncommon with traumatic brain injuries. But I believe we can remove the oxygen mask now. It was just a precaution after the surgery."

"May?" He asked, and her head shot back over to him, interrupting whatever the doctor had been saying. Car accident? He had no idea what she was talking about.

"Yeah, baby?"

"You okay?" She softened, placing a hand against his cheek.

"Of course."

"What happened?" She pressed her lips together, then turned to the doctor. Peter couldn't turn his head again. He was too tired...too exhausted to keep up with all of this moving. Sinking into the bed, he blinked heavily while the doctor and May looked at one another, probably communicating something he couldn't catch.

"There was a car accident. You were at an internship conference over here with Mr. Stark...in the car with his driver. And you…"

"Happy." Peter realized, the knowledge coming to him out of nowhere. May hesitated, but Mr. Stark nodded.

"That's right." He told Peter with a grin. "We call him Happy. Don't know why...we should call him Grumpy."

"So you were in the car with Happy and you collided with another car." He tried to process that. Tried to remember.

"Happy? He okay?" May nodded, as did Mr. Stark.

"He's okay." His aunt promised. "You were the only one hurt." Peter furrowed his brow at that, but he was too tired to question it. Still, it didn't make sense. Something about it wasn't right. He'd been in a car accident during an internship? Then he realized something. An internship conference. That part didn't make sense but the other part. The 'over here' part.

"Where are we?" He asked, breaking the silence, and May's face twisted a little. When she spoke, she sounded on the verge of tears.

"Sweetie, we...remember, we just…"

"No. Where." He tried to explain, frustrated with his inability to do so. With his inability to make his mouth work right.

Thankfully, Mr. Stark seemed to get it. "Germany." He told Peter, moving a little closer. Since May had come to his side, the man had backed away a little, and it made Peter inexplicably sad. "The conference was in Germany, so we brought you to a hospital here after you… after the accident."

The doctor wanted to do an MRI on him, so the next thing he knew, the doctor was wheeling him into a machine and it was familiar even though he didn't think he'd ever had an MRI. Still, it felt like he had. And May and Mr. Stark were there, following him into the room...until Mr. Stark stepped out and it felt like he fell asleep. Like he closed his eyes and slept but he was tired and everything was a blur and…

"Peter?" He blinked a few times, losing track of what he'd just been thinking. They had pulled him out of the machine and he was looking up at the ceiling and then at the doctor. "Peter, can you hear me?"

"Yeah." He murmured, blinking and rubbing at his face. He was still laying down. Still in bed. Right beside the machine.

"We're going to take you back to your room. Do you think you could eat something?"

"I...yeah...yeah, I'm hungry." He told the woman, blinking a few more times.

"Good." She smiled, touching his shoulder. "The nurse is going to take you back to your room and you can eat there. I'm just going to talk with Mr. Stark for a few minutes." He hummed in agreement, glancing over at Mr. Stark who shot him a quick smile.

"I'll see you in a few minutes. Alright?" The man's hand landed on his shoulder and he squeezed gently.

"Okay." He murmured. And as he was rolled into another room, his aunt walking at his side, not letting go of his hand, he realized that he was sad that Mr. Stark wasn't coming. Because something wasn't right...there was something they weren't telling him. His body ached and his back felt weird and so did his head and he couldn't remember anything. Couldn't remember any details about what had happened!

But something had. And something told him that it hadn't been a car accident.


	8. Heroes

Mr. Stark had come to his apartment. Mr. Stark was Iron Man. He was Mr. Stark’s...intern? And they had been at a conference in Germany.

These were the things that Mr. Stark and May had told him, the things that were supposed to be true. He could only remember the first two. He remembered coming home...seeing Mr. Stark in his living room. Seeing the man eating a piece of bread...then spitting it into his trash can. Remembered being stunned at the sight. “Not bad, as far as walnut date loaves go.” That’s hat Mr. Stark had said. He remembered it. His brain was struggling to keep up with the blur of things going on, but it conjured that memory for him.

Mr. Stark at his apartment. Mr. Stark going with him to his room. Mr. Stark...looking around? That’s when things got kind of fuzzy. Something about spiders...something about clothes. Why had Mr. Stark been in his room? Or at his apartment, for that matter? He hadn’t applied for an internship, had he? Why would he forget something like that? And it wasn’t like he didn’t want an internship with Tony Stark...but the opportunity had never come up. At least, not for high school sophomores. 

So, what had it been about clothes? Or...a suit? It was like something on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t quite get there.

“Baby?” May asked, reaching out and touching his face. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” Peter promised, even though the more he tried to remember, the more the faint ache in his head turned into a pounding pain. He didn’t want to worry her...didn’t want her to be afraid. Because that’s how she looked. Afraid. Like he might disappear at any moment. He hated it when May worried...hated it when she freaked out. Because then he freaked out. And he didn’t feel like he had the energy to freak out. His whole body felt heavy and vaguely painful…

Peter was back in his hospital room. With May. Just the two of them. But something made him think that there were more people involved than just them and Mr. Stark. He had vague memories…but they made no sense. 

He tried to take stock...tried to feel out how badly he was injured. His sides hurt, but not too bad as long as he stayed mostly still. His shoulders and wrists and hands all still worked...it was only when he tried to wiggle his toes that he felt the dull pulling in his back. Nothing happened. Trying again, this time hoping to bend his knees, he hissed at the pain in his back, dropping his head back and closing his eyes.

“Peter?” May asked, reaching out and touching his arm, sounding so tired and frazzled and afraid, but he couldn’t help the tears that pooled in his eyes, one spilling over onto his cheek. 

“I can’t…”. He started, the words small and childlike as they escaped his mouth. “May, why can’t I move my legs?”

She stroked his cheek, a finger wiping at a tear that fell. “You hurt your back in the car accident.”

He hurt his back. The words were so innocent...but they meant so much more. He’d hurt his back. So...what now? Would he...would he be paralyzed? Would he be able to walk again? The thoughts were too scary to put into words, and May must have been able to see that in his face because she tapped him on the cheek. 

“You’re going to be okay.” She whispered when he met her eyes. She’d been crying, he realized with a pang of regret and guilt. So he should stop. He had to stop crying and tell May that it was okay...that he’d been fine. But he could feel his face crumbling, sobs breaking through, and his aunt pulled him into her arms, rocking them just a little. “It’s okay, baby. It’s going to be okay.” 

He must have dozed on her shoulder because the next thing he knew, she was shaking him a little, a hand running through his hair just like it had when he had been little. She and Ben had been such good parents...they'd loved him so much. And even though he wanted Ben...even though he wanted his uncle back, he loved May just as much. 

“Peter? Sweetheart? Do you think you can eat something?” He nodded, wiping his eyes and trying to sit up. She slipped an arm around him, bracing him and putting another pillow behind his back so that he could sit up. On the table beside him was a covered tray, and May wheeled the table closer, swinging it out so that it was resting right in front of him. Lifting the tray, she revealed a chicken breast and a fruit cup, along with some vegetables that looked like they would taste like rubber.

They did.

Still, he ate the food, chewing and swallowing because he knew that it would make May happy. She watched him like a hawk, even though she was trying to pretend she wasn't by tapping away at her phone. He knew better though...she kept glancing over at him. Lips pressed in a straight line. Her typical worried look. He wanted to tell her that he loved her. That he was so sorry that he was worried...but he didn't know if the words would come. He could see them in his brain. Could think them. But when he tried to open his mouth to speak, something went wrong.

He didn’t want to think about that. Didn’t want to think about the fact that he couldn’t speak or move his legs without the burning pain. He just wanted to know what had happened...what had really happened. But on the other hand, Peter didn’t know if he really did want to know. Because he couldn’t move his legs. Couldn’t’ make his mouth work right. And he...he was scared. So scared. But he couldn’t let May know how scared she really was. So he ate the food, then dropped his head against the pillow, claiming to be tired. She placed a hand on the top of his head, nails scratching ever so gently over his head...his mostly bald head, another thing he didn’t want to think about.

“May? Can I speak with you for a moment?” Peter heard someone ask, and when he pried his eyes back open, he found that it was his doctor. Helen...something. He closed his eyes, letting his head rest on the pillow. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be back in his own bed and he wanted to be able to get out of bed and talk normally and not be so confused. 

And then something touched his hand and he jumped a little, blinking over at the man that had appeared seemingly out of thin air. “Sorry, Pete. I thought you were asleep.” Mr. Stark pulled his hand away, but Peter wanted him to hold his hand...because he...he’d been there. He’d been holding Peter’s hand...he must have been. Because it felt like the most familiar thing in the world. But he had no idea to ask.

The man seemed almost embarrassed, eyes dropping as he sat back in his chair. “You were….you were…” Peter closed his eyes, the frustration only making it harder, and a hand landed on his arm, thumb rubbing a little across his wrist. “You were here.” He managed. It wasn’t what he wanted to say. Mr. Stark seemed to understand, though.

“Yeah, I’ve been here the whole time. Had to make sure my intern was okay.” Intern...that still didn’t sound right. “Pete?”

“I...I can’t...it’s hard…” It’s hard to talk, he wanted to say. Hard to move and hard to remember and just...hard.

“I know, kiddo.” The man’s voice was soft. Compassionate. “You suffered a traumatic brain injury. Doctor Cho says that it’s going to take some time before you’re completely back to normal. Until then, we’re going to work on it, okay?” 

We. Mr. Stark had said ‘we.’ As in...he was going to help? Stay with him? Wasn’t he busy? “I can’t...move.” Once more, Mr. Stark seemed to understand, nodding a little.

“Yeah...the injury damaged your spine. But you’re going to be okay.” Mr. Stark assured him, squeezing his arm. “Physical therapy, speech therapy...whatever you need.” Peter wanted to be comforted. He wanted to feel like everything really was going to be okay. But his eyes were hot and he felt so...frustrated and sad and scared. Closing his eyes, he lay back against the pillow, squeezing the hand that slipped into his. 

“You were here,” Peter whispered, squeezing the hand gently. 

“That’s right, Pete. I’m right here with you. I've been here the whole time." 

Peter clenched his jaw then released it, blinking at the ceiling and struggling to get his mouth to work right. “I...thank...Mr. Stark. Thank…” He tried, a tear finally overflowing and dripping down his cheek. “You…”

“Not a problem, buddy.” The man assured him. “I’ve got your back.” 

What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t talk right...how was he supposed to go to school? People would think he was stupid. He went to Midtown and people would make fun of him and he couldn’t be on Academic Decathlon anymore...and he could barely move! How would he get to school? How would he get around the apartment? How could he be Spiderman!?

The thought stopped him cold as everything snapped into place. Spiderman. He was Spiderman. Not an intern. That’s how he knew Mr. Stark. That’s how he’d gotten hurt. The pain in his head shot up to a 10 as the memories flooded in. Mr. Stark in his apartment. His suit. His new suit, made for him by Mr. Stark. The trip to German with Happy. His hotel room….

And then the fight.

Giant man. 

Being told to stay down.

And then...War Machine. Iron Patriot. Watching him fall...and knowing that he couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let Colonel Rhodes die. So he’d shot a web from him to Mr. Stark and then…

Then he’d...fallen?

“Peter!” Mr. Stark cried, leaning in and gripping his hand. “Peter?”

Peter blinked a few times, then glanced over at the man beside him. “Mr. Stark?”

The older man's face fell, but he rallied quickly, swallowing hard and nodding. “Yeah, Pete. It’s me. Tony Stark. Do you know where you…”

“I’m Spiderman.” He whispered, glancing at the door where May had disappeared. Mr. Stark stiffened, eyes wide. “May...does...does she....?” He tried to ask, but the man cut him off, shaking his head.

“No. No, she doesn’t know. She thinks it was a car accident. But...yeah, you’re Spiderman. Do you...do you remember.”

“I...I fell?” He asked, and the man nodded again.

“Yeah, Pete. You...you fell.”

“Is...War Machine...okay?” Peter needed to know...had it worked? Gritting his teeth, he forced the words out, managing to ask the question he wanted to ask and feeling a spark of pride. He was sure that he saw the same expression on Mr. Stark’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a smile that was surprisingly soft.

“Yeah, kid. Rhodey’s fine. You saved him.” He sat back, blinking and staring at the wall. He’d saved Rhodey? He barely remembered that. Briefly remembered the jump...latching on to the suit...shooting a web. Attaching the web to Iron Man’s armor...and then...nothing. “He’s hanging around, you know. Wanted to thank you for saving his life.”

“What...about the....” Peter started, struggling to get his words but coming up short when it came to the other Avengers. Captain America...Steve Rogers. The Accords and all of that...the things he’d barely understood. “The…” Frustrated, he clenched his jaw, dropping his head back and fighting back a groan. He wasn’t stupid! He knew how to talk. Beside him, Mr. Stark didn’t seem to mind waiting. But Peter knew that he only had a limited number of chances to impress Mr. Stark. No way the man would want him to be an Avenger if he couldn’t even talk.

But the more frustrated he got, the harder it was to focus, and then his head was pounding and he felt sick and then...then the hand holding his squeezed, a thumb rubbing over his knuckles. “It’s alright, kid. It’s part of the injury...it might be hard for you to find the right words for a while. But we’re going to work on it, okay? Were you asking about Avengers?” Peter nodded, sniffing and closing his eyes, refusing to open them and see the expression on Mr. Stark’s face. 

There was something wrong with him...it was like he was broken. And he just wanted to fix it. To be normal again.

“Rhodey is here. So are Sam and Natasha. They were with me when we brought you here. They all want to see you when you’re feeling up to it. Steve Rogers and the Manchurian Candidate are off somewhere…” He paused, but Peter kept his eyes shut. “I’m not really sure, to be honest, but hopefully we can work all of this out soon. Um...Vision went back to the Compound. King T’Challa went with Bucky and Steve, I guess...and Wanda...uh...she’s somewhere. Probably with Steve and Bucky.” Peter nodded a little, his movements all slow and clumsy. “Pete?” The man waited until Peter opened his eyes.

“Hm?” He asked, feeling dizzy and tired.

“You look worn out, bud, so I’ll make this short. You….you did good. Better than good. You did great. Saved my best friend. I’m going to make sure that you’re okay. I promise. Whatever you need. Whatever happens. I’ve got you, Pete.” 

Peter wanted to thank him. Or ask him what had happened after he’d saved Colonel Rhodes. Or ask him if he’d really done okay. If he’d really done enough. Instead, he let his eyes shut again, and the last thing he felt was a hand squeezing his, and a finger wiping a tear from his cheek.


	9. Each Other's Team

It hurt to see Peter like this. It hurt Tony in a way nothing had ever hurt before. But he refused to let it show. Refused to let Peter see how his heart twisted every time the boy struggled to speak. Every time he opened his mouth and his words came out slow and hesitant. Because he couldn't stop thinking of the boy he'd seen on Youtube...the boy he'd met in his apartment in Queens. The kid who had moved like a dancer, absently but always gracefully, unlike any other teenage boy he'd ever seen. The kid that had huffed and colored when Tony had called his suit a onesie, and who'd said that he couldn't help Iron Man with the Avengers because he had homework.

The boy who had chatted his way through an entire battle, making conversation with everyone he'd fought against. Constantly cheerful. Endlessly energetic. Almost annoyingly so, he thought fondly. Happy had briefed him on the trip to Germany with the kid...on how he'd talked non-stop. And he had seen the videos. Had watched Peter's video diary and had watched the boy smile and chat and tease Happy and do his voices and now...now he stared down at the fourteen-year-old boy he'd dragged into this and felt shame. And when he thought about the boy's aunt...he felt even worse.

But Peter had remembered. And in some way, that made him feel better.

He'd been so afraid that Peter wouldn't remember. That the kid would never wake up, or that he'd wake up and that just...not be there. He knew that could happen...sometimes people with head injuries eventually opened their eyes but they just weren't there. They just stared at the ceiling, eyes vacant, mostly brain dead. But Peter...he was awake and trying to talk and he remembered. Gripping the hand that had gone lax in his, he closed his eyes, dropping his head down onto the bed beside Peter's arm. "I've got you, kid." He whispered, promising. Tony Stark kept his promises.

May returned a few minutes later, and by then, he'd managed to compose himself. He'd washed his face and fixed his hair and had gone back to his spot beside Peter's bed, slipping his hand into the boy's.

"Tony?" She asked, looking somewhat haggard, and he wanted to send her back to the hotel...promise to stand guard over the boy so that she could rest. But he knew that she would never listen to him. "Is he…?" She never finished that sentence. He figured that she was too afraid to...too afraid to ask and have the answer be bad.

"He was awake for a few minutes but he just fell asleep again. His vitals look good, though." She nodded, pressing a hand to her mouth and smiling a little as she took her seat on Peter's other side. "How are you?"

"I'm fine." She promised, taking Peter's other hand. "How is he?"

"He's going to be okay," Tony promised. "It's going to be a lot of work, but he's going to be okay." He wanted to keep telling her...wanted her to know that Peter was going to be okay. He needed someone else to know that...because if he started to lose hope, he would need someone to tell him that Peter would be okay.

Tony stood then, squeezing Peter's hand before placing it gently back on the bed, pulling the blanket up to cover him. He wasn't sure what May and Helen had been talking about, but he wanted to find out. Plus, he figured she could use some alone time with the boy, especially since she was sitting in the chair that reclined, and could hopefully get some sleep. Moving to the closet, he grabbed an extra blanket, draping it over the woman who smiled at him. "Get some rest." He urged. "He'll probably sleep for a few hours."

"Helen said that he's healing very well. It's amazing...she says with his kind of injury that…" She pressed her lips together and shook her head. "I can't thank you enough. For...for getting Dr. Cho and for staying with him and…"

Tony waved her off. "He's a great kid. Did a great job with the internship. And...I feel responsible."

"You shouldn't." May hurried to assure him. "I know that I...I was hard on you at first but...I know that it wasn't really your fault. I know that you would never have put him in danger." He flinched, forcing himself to smile. Forcing himself not to look guilty. Because all of this...it was on him. He'd put that kid in danger.

Tony shook that thought away. Tried to school his face into something a little more neutral. "I'm going to check in with Helen and see what she says."

"Thank you, Tony." He nodded, tapping his fingers on the footboard of Peter's bed as he made his way out to the hallway, shutting the door behind him and nearly running into Rhodey.

The man took a step back, and Tony noticed that he tried to glance around him at the boy in the hospital room. "I told him that you wanted to see him when he's feeling better."

"I do." Rhodey nodded. "I need to thank him." He swallowed, falling in step with Tony as the two of them made their way toward the office where Helen was working. "How's he doing."

"He recognized me. He was having trouble talking...it's part of the traumatic brain injury. But he's trying and he's able to communicate. I think it's going to take some time…"

"I agree." They both looked up as Helen approached from the room she'd been using as an office, opening it and ushering them in. They stepped inside, Tony taking a seat in the corner, Rhodey taking the chair beside them, while Helen pulled herself up to sit on the table. The windows were all open, letting in the fresh air and ruffling a pile of papers beside her that she pulled from, thumbing through a file. "His healing factor is incredible, Tony. I've never seen anything like it. His brain activity is looking better and better every time I run the tests. He's having difficulty forming words and communicating, but that's to be expected."

"What about the spinal injury?" Rhodey wanted to know.

"I'll need to run more tests for that. He doesn't seem to be having trouble moving his upper body, and he seems to have some movement in his legs. I want to run more tests within the week, so how his healing faring. But I think that the sooner we begin physical therapy, the better."

"I can help." Tony hurried to assure her. I want to be there...I want to help."

"You can be in the room if Peter wants you in the room." She told him, lifting an eyebrow. "At this point, the best way you can help is to be there for Peter and his aunt. If you'd like to have him transferred back to the US, I'd like to wait a couple of days, but I'd say that by the end of the week, it should be safe. If you'd like me to continue as his doctor…"

"Of course I want you to continue as his doctor." She smiled a little and nodded.

"In that case, I think it might be best to set him up at the Avengers Compound where we won't have to worry about anyone finding out his identity or his mutation. Are you certain that you don't want to tell his aunt?"

"I can't. That's not my secret to tell." She nodded a little.

"I want to keep him on bed rest for the rest of today and tomorrow. Keep trying to talk to him. I told his aunt the same thing. It's only going to strengthen those pathways in his brain if he practices his speech, even if it's difficult for him. Be ready for mood swings and frustration...I have him on pain medication that may make him groggy...also I'm pretty sure I'm violating some kind of HIPPA laws just by showing you this." She told him wryly, handing him a tablet that he flipped through, bringing up a hologram that listed his stats.

"I don't think they were taking into account secret identities and superheroes when they wrote those laws." She hummed, hopping off the table and grabbing the folder.

Tony took the tablet back to the hotel, Rhodey following along, and, giving into Pepper's demands, he ate dinner with her, just the two of them, as he updated her on Peter's condition. "I want to get him back to the US...to the Avengers Compound. Helen's right, he'll be safer there. No doctors to poke around or find out about his secret identity." The two were having room service in their hotel room, backs against the headboard, stretched out in bed. It was almost like a vacation...but he couldn't quite stop thinking about the kid...and Steve. And the rogue Avengers and all the other shit he needed to try and fix.

"I can talk to his aunt...start making arrangements. We can go in your jet." He nodded and she pulled out her phone, probably doing just that. Making arrangements. Taking care of everything

He had some things of his own to take care of.

He spent the rest of the day on the phone with T'Challa while Sam made some calls to the Rogues, hoping to get some things settled once and for all. Steve was apparently open to talks, as long as Bucky Barnes was involved, which Tony wasn't completely sold on, especially not with Peter at the compound. Still, he was willing to negotiate, as he told Sam, and promised that they'd be safe hiding out at the compound if they needed to.

Pepper convinced him to give Peter and his aunt some time together, but he could only manage to stay away until the morning. After showering and scarfing down some breakfast, he hurried down the street to the hospital, making his way to Peter's room where he found the boy half sitting up, propped against the bed and the pillows, head turning as soon as the man stepped into the room. "Hey there, Pete." He greeted, looking around for May. "How are you feeling?"

The boy shrugged, eyes downcast, and Tony felt a pang in his chest. Still, he didn't let his worry show.

"Where's May?" He wondered, dropping into his chair.

"Bre...bre…"' Peter's mouth twisted and he gritted his teeth, trying to force it. Tony just waited, face open and curious. Never impatient. Never upset. "Break…". Peter sighed, closing his eyes. "Food." He finally slurred, defeated. Tony reached out, placing his hand over Peter's, and as if on instinct, Peter turned his hand over and gripped his. Tony tried to remember the last time someone had sought him out for comfort like this...had wanted him to stay with them, and, other than maybe Pepper once or twice, came up empty.

He felt something for this kid. Something a little too close to love...and he both feared this development and almost welcomed it. He knew that Peter was a good kid. He knew that Peter wanted to get to know him and to be mentored by him...he also knew that Stark men messed things like this up. Still, he pressed on, not ready to give in to that fear just yet. He could be better than his father...he could break that cycle. He was Tony Stark. He'd built his first Iron Man suit out of scraps in a cave...he could get close to a kid.

"I thought I'd give you guys some space yesterday. Did you sleep okay."

Peter nodded.

"Good. Helen says that you seem to be doing a lot better, so we have your Spider healing to thank for that." The boy nodded again, eyes downcase, and Tony wondered how he could draw him out without making it obvious. "So, I was thinking, we try to get you back to the States by the end of the week, and once you're all healed up, we get started on that internship."

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, glancing around the room as if Tony could be talking to anyone else. "In...internship?" He asked, managing the words fairly quickly compared to 'breakfast.'

"Well, yeah, kid. You've certainly proven yourself. Plus May already thinks you have an internship with me, so we might as well make it official. Maybe Fridays? I don't want to interfere too much with the whole patrolling thing." He told him, lowering his voice so no one would overhear. Peter closed his eyes, pulling his hand out of Tony's and turning away a little, and Tony frowned, leaning in. "Kid?"

"You...you don't have to…" He started, taking deep breaths as he focused on getting every word out. "...to do...th...th...this."

"What are you talking about, Pete? Don't have to do what?"

"Wasn't...yo...your...your fault." Peter slurred, voice soft and sad, and Tony flinched.

"Pete…"

"You don't even kn...kno...know me." The boy all but whispered. "You can st...stop...pre...pre...prete…" He cut himself off, hands clenching into fists that he slammed weakly onto the bed at his side, a tear dripping off his cheek and onto the pillow. "Stop." He half-sobbed. "Just...stop…"

"Peter," Tony said again, this time making his voice firm as he reached out, touching the boy's clenched fist. "Buddy...look at me, please?" He implored, and Peter glanced over, not meeting his eyes. "I'm not pretending, Peter. I'm not pretending to care about you. I'm not pretending to want to offer you an internship. I'm not pretending to be impressed by you. You saved Rhodey. You did a great job. But more than that, you're a smart kid. I've seen your school work and your science fair projects...I've seen the web formula you designed yourself. You're practically a genius, kid."

"Not...anymore…" Peter told the ceiling.

Tony made a buzzer sound with his mouth, making Peter jump. "Wrong. You suffered from a traumatic brain injury. It's causing you to have trouble speaking. That just means we'll have to work to fix it, but it doesn't mean you're any less intelligent. You're the exact kind of hero I want on my team, Underoos. You got me?" Peter continued to stare at the ceiling, another tear dripping down his cheek. "I'm not pretending. I didn't just track you down because I thought Spiderman could help me out. I tracked you down because Peter Parker is one of the smartest kids I've ever met. And I'm...I'm sorry that we've gotten off to a rough start and that I dragged you into a fight that got you hurt. But I'm not sorry that we met. You're the real deal, Peter."

The boy finally looked at him, eyes red-rimmed and afraid but also hopeful, and Tony clasped his shoulder. "I'm going to get you through this. I promise. And after I do, we'll get started on that internship. Deal?"

The boy swallowed, then his lips twitched into a small smile. "Deal."

Thank you so much for reading!


	10. Let's Get Physical

Peter gripped the rails on either side of him, careful not to squeeze them too hard and break them like he had the first day of his physical therapy. He hadn't wanted to hold onto anyone's hand or arm, not even May's...in fact, he didn't want May in with him when he did physical therapy at all, not back in Germany, and not now that he was back at the Avengers compound. May got upset. May cried...and when she cried, he cried.

Closing his eyes, he focused on moving one foot forward, ignoring the twinge in his back. Ignored memories of making his aunt cry and struggling through the first days of speech therapy with a special doctor that Mr. Stark had brought in who showed him flashcards and prompted him to repeat after her and...he pushed it all away. All he wanted to do was walk from one side of the parallel bars to the other...it was probably fifteen feet. Still, Peter had to push back irritation and frustration and just...walk.

He was lucky. So lucky. He knew it, even without being told. Mr. Stark and Dr. Cho had set him down before his first physical therapy session with Sam Wilson, showing him an x-ray of his spine the day of his injury, and the x-ray taken just the day before...it was incredible. "If you weren't enhanced, you would be paralyzed. No question about it." Dr. Cho had told him, voice kinder than her words. "Your spine is healing itself at an incredible rate, but it's still going to be hard. I can't say how quickly you'll be back on your feet."

That's where Sam came in. The man had come into his hospital room, sans wingsuit and mask, and had held out a hand, shaking Peter's. "Nice to officially meet you, kid. I'm Sam."

"Peter." He'd greeted, glad to at least be able to say that word without issue...well, his voice still slurred a little, but it had been better. Since having that talk with Mr. Stark, he and the man, and May too, had been talking more. Not about anything in particular...he knew they were just trying to help him. Still, it was embarrassing. Sam hadn't seemed to notice, though, and to the man's credit, he hadn't said anything since about Peter's difficulty speaking.

"You're a hell of a superhero, kid. How about we work on getting you back on your feet." That had been the first thing he'd said once May was out of earshot, and he'd helped Peter into a wheelchair, wheeling him into a room that looked somewhat like a gym. Weight machines and free weights had lined the edge of the room, much like the ones in the room Peter was currently in, and in the middle, the parallel bars that would help him walk again.

May had come to that first session. She had stood on the sidelines, a hand over her mouth, and the first time he'd fallen, she had broken into sobs, covering her face with her hands and then Peter had been crying too, hating himself for hurting her, and Sam had gone to his side, placing a hand under his arm. "You're alright, kid. Anything hurt?" Peter had shaken his head and the man had helped him stand, getting his arms situated so that he'd been gripping the bars, and then he'd gone to May's side.

"I know you want to be here for him." He'd said, pitching his voice low. "But I think it might be better for him to do this alone."

Peter had tried to stop listening then, dropping his head and gritting his teeth and just waiting, wishing that this could be over...that he could be on the other side when he could walk and talk again. Instead, he had let May kiss him on the cheek, her tears mixing with his, and she had promised that she'd be waiting for him in his room.

Sam had gripped his shoulder then. "Alright, kid. Let's go again, huh?"

Ever since, he'd done the physical therapy every day, except a few days ago when they had flown back to the US. He'd been taken straight to his guest room at the Compound that day and had been allowed to eat and take a nap instead of getting out of bed. May had been given a guest room as well, with Mr. Stark arranging to let her stay for a few more days, talking to her boss to make sure that she would still be paid. Peter had a sneaky suspicion that he was the one paying her, but still...he wasn't about to say anything about it.

"Come on, Pete. You got this." Peter was pulled out of his thoughts by Sam's voice. The man was standing right beside him, ready to help if he needed it, but Peter felt like he was getting better. At least, he was able to lift his right foot about ninety percent of the time, his left foot still stubbornly dragging a little. But Sam had reminded him again and again that he hadn't been able to lift either foot at first. "Focus on the progress," Sam had told him more than once. "Focus on how lucky you are to be walking at all."

And he tried.

Sam wasn't always a hard-ass though. The guy was surprisingly nice...surprisingly because he'd never expected it, especially after the man had complained about how much he had talked during the airport fight...plus he'd thrown him through a huge window. Now, though, he stood at Peter's side, arms ready to catch him. He always asked him how he was feeling. Asked about his friend, Ned, who Peter had mentioned during their second session of physical therapy.

Peter forced his foot forward, gaining a couple of inches. "There you go." Sam cheered, and Peter had to shove back his frustration again. He wasn't upset with Sam...he was upset with himself. With his legs for not working and his brain for not working and...everything. Just, everything. "Eyes up, kid. You're doing good."

"I ca...can stop a bus with...with my bare ha...ha...hands, but I can't lift my left fo...fo...foot." He grumbled, unable to resist the urge to gripe. His back was starting to hurt with all the movement, and it was making him grumpy. Despite his complaining, he couldn't help but notice that he was getting so much better at talking. He didn't want to thank the flashcards but thought they might actually be helping, even though they made him feel like a five-year-old.

"Can it, Spidey, and keep dragging that left foot," Sam told him, slapping him lightly on the shoulder.

He had to smile then, almost laughing as he took another half step. "This is a closed session. Beat it, tin can!" Sam called, no malice in his voice, and Mr. Stark stepped into the room with a chuckle, pulling his shades off and nodded to Peter.

"What's up, Spiderman? Birdman." Sam sighed, rolling his eyes, but his lips turned up into a smirk.

"What do you want?"

"Clear the room. I wanna talk to the kid."

"We're kind of in the middle of something." Sam reminded him, gesturing to Peter, who was still struggling to move himself forward, with both hands gripping the bars.

"Yeah, yeah. Physical therapy, walking, etc. I'll take over. If you can do this, so can I." Sam glanced at Peter, not seeming sure, then nodded.

"Alright. I'll be right back, kid. Call if you need anything."

Peter held himself in place as Mr. Stark approached, looking him up and down casually, no doubt taking note of his sweat-soaked hair and his white-knuckle grip on the bars. "How you feeling, bud?" He asked, and Peter looked forward once more, forcing his left foot forward.

"Fine." He muttered, teeth gritted as he concentrated on trying to take a step.

"Today's May's last day staying here at the compound. I tried to bribe her boss, but he wasn't having it."

"You mean you haven't been bri...bri...bribing him the whole ti….time?" Peter asked, smiling a little.

"Doesn't matter." Mr. Stark waved him off. "Don't worry, though. Happy's gonna drive her over a couple of times a week. And she can stay on the weekends too. Sam says you're doing a lot better."

"I can dr...dr...dr...shit…." He hissed when his left foot twisted a little, tangling with his right foot and sending him crashing to the floor.

"Woah…" Mr. Stark cried, lunging for him. The bars got in the way, though, and the man ended up crouching down beside him and putting a firm hand on his shoulder, the two of them just existing in the silence for a moment. Peter felt the tension rising as his back throbbed, his legs sore and shaky. Pressing his hands to the ground, he took deep breaths, closing his eyes and trying to calm down...to push back the urge to scream and sob and pound his fists into the ground. Because he wanted to. He wanted to scream. He wanted to give up. He wanted to sob that it wasn't fair, that he'd tried to do something good and now...Peter shoved that thought back, reminding himself that he had signed up for this...that he wanted to help people. That sometimes, helping people came with a price. "You alright?" Mr. Stark asked softly, jaw clenched, that guilty look on his face once more. Peter hated that look.

"I'm okay." The man just nodded, lips pressed together. The man blamed himself. Thought that all of this was his fault, and Peter didn't know how to fix it. Didn't know how to convince the man that he had chosen this...that he had made the choice to be Spiderman on his own, especially now that he could barely talk, but he knew he had to try. "I wa...want...wanted to save him. It's...it's what I do, Mr. St...Sta...Stark. Look out for the little gu...guy." The man smiled a little, sighing and holding out a hand.

"You calling Rhodey 'the little guy?" He asked, gripping the hand Peter placed in his, tugging and helping him to his feet.

"It's an ex...expression."

"You're doing a lot better, Pete, and you're working hard. I'm proud of you." Mr. Stark told him, ruffling his sweaty hair, not seeming to care about the sweat.

Peter dropped his eyes, unable to fight the smile that took over his face. "Thanks." He whispered, trying not to flinch when his back gave a twinge. His whole body felt heavy and achy, and he hated it. He'd gotten used to having powers...to feeling strong and never being tired.

"Alright, bud. Let's get you across this room so you can sit down, huh? Come on, Pete, just, like...twelve more feet."

It took what felt like hours, but Peter did get across the room, and Mr. Stark pushed the wheelchair closer, gripping his arm and easing him down into it. Peter sighed, dropping his head back and breathing heavily. "It's been less than two weeks and you're already walking."

"Barely." Peter murmured, wiping a hand over his face as the man pushed his wheelchair toward the elevator. The man very kindly didn't remind him that most people would never be walking again, just patted him on the shoulder while they waited for Friday to take them back to his floor...which was also Mr. Stark's floor. He wheeled him to his room then, and parked the wheelchair beside the bathroom door.

"Alright, kid. There's a change of clothes on the sink. You think you can take a shower? Then we can get you something to eat and go through those flashcards you love so much." Peter sighed, but nodded, grateful to be given the option. The bathroom was totally handicap equipped, with a rail that ran all the way along the wall, a shower with a door and a bench, and a button he could press for help if he needed it...not that he'd needed it yet, thankfully. So far, May had been the one to help him to and from the bathroom, always giving him as much privacy as possible, and he knew that Mr. Stark would totally help if he needed it, but he was pretty sure he could do this much himself despite the fact that his back was now killing him and he wanted to sleep.

It took a lot longer than it usually would, but in the end, he was able to do just about everything himself. Showering wasn't hard, since he was able to sit down, and he'd been able to dry off and get dressed, but when it came time to stand up from the toilet seat where he'd sat to take a break, legs trembling with effort, he'd dropped back down, swearing and dropping his head into his hands.

He didn't want to hit the button. He didn't want to freak Mr. Stark out. But he was dizzy and exhausted and in pain and he just wanted to eat something and lay down. So, swallowing what little pride he had left, he grabbed the button and pressed it. Not even a minute later, there was a tap on the door.

"Hey, Pete. Need a hand?" Mr. Stark asked, completely casual.

"Yeah." He murmured, just loudly enough for him to hear, and then Mr. Stark was stepping into the bathroom, putting a hand on Peter's shoulder.

"You okay? Hurt anywhere?"

"No...just...tired." He excused himself, hoping Mr. Stark didn't make him spell it out. Thankfully, he didn't, just gripped Peter under the arm and helped him stand, supporting most of his weight as he walked him to the bed, pulling the blankets back and helping him lay down.

Peter sighed, dropping his head back and closing his eyes, relieved to finally be able to rest. Mr. Stark gave him a moment, probably about to ask him what he wanted to eat, when May stepped into the room, hair wrapped in a bun. "Hey, baby." She murmured, reaching out and touching his still-damp hair.

"Hey, May." He smiled, batting her hand away when she ruffled it.

"How are you feeling?" She wondered, perching on the side of his bed.

“I’m f…f…fine.” He told her, lying just a little. He ached all over, which told him that it was probably time for his pain medicine. Still, he didn’t want to ask…didn’t want to freak her out. He would wait until he was alone with Mr. Stark to ask. He didn’t usually freak out. The man was practically unflappable, which Peter appreciated, as he had been feeling about half a second away from freaking out ever since finding out that he’d almost been completely paralyzed.

He knew that she was upset that she had to leave him…but as much as he hated to see her go, he hoped that her not being at the compound every day would help her worry less. He didn’t want her to worry…he wanted her to be okay. Happy. And he felt like when she was close by, worrying about him, that she couldn’t be happy. So the faster he could feel better and get back on his feet and figure out how to talk again, the better.

A nurse brought them lunch on two trays, and Mr. Stark excused himself so that May could eat with him, promising that he’d be back later. He and May sat together in his bed, shoulder to shoulder, as they ate chicken and pasta. And then, May turned to him, expression serious. “If you want me to stay…” She started, but Peter shook his head, horrified.

“May…”

“Tony can help me find a new job. He already offered.”

“You can’t le…le…leave your j…job!” He cried, trying to sit up a little more. “May…you lo…ove your j…job.”

“I love you more.” She told him, voice soft and on the verge of breaking, and he closed his eyes, leaning his head on her shoulder. “I love you so much, baby. You know that, right? And if you need me to stay with you, I will.”

He smiled, and she pressed her lips to the top of his head. “I lo…lo…love you too.” He whispered, then looked up at her, focusing on every single word, but managing most of them without too much trouble. “But I’ll be okay. The A…a…aven…avengers are h…he…here to help, and you can come visit. I’ll probably be coming ho…ho…home soon anyway.” She pressed a hand to his cheek, a thumb brushing the skin under his eye. “I’ll be okay.” He told her again. “I pro…promise.”

She nodded, dropping her hand, then dropping a kiss on his forehead. “Okay, baby.”


	11. The Good Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing! This is going to be the last full chapter! (But there will be an epilogue).

The next two weeks passed in a blur of physical therapy and speech therapy, appointments with Doctor Cho and almost constant supervision for Peter. The days were filled with wheelchair rides that turned into a cane that turned into Tony's arm held out to steady him when he balked in embarrassment at the thought of using a cane. Tony had stepped into the gym right in the middle of that particular conversation where Sam had been attempting to convince him that it was seriously no big deal and that it was practically a miracle that it was even an option at all.

Tony had been able to tell that the kid was frustrated. That after a long hour of physical therapy coupled with the fact that the kid was probably hungry, the kid was probably about done. That had led Tony to step in, joining the two of them in the corner of the gym by the parallel bars, Peter gripping one of the bars and eyeing the cane distrustfully.

"Hey, kiddo. You ready to grab some lunch?" He had asked, giving Sam a quick look before Peter caught his eye. The other man had backed off a little, and Tony had taken the cane, tucking it under one arm, and offering his other arm to Peter who had seemed to deflate a little, then smiled, gripping his arm and letting him help him to the elevator.

Ever since, when they were together, Tony had held out an arm and helped him, the boy's limp growing less pronounced by the day, although he was still on pain meds to help him with his back, which hurt the most at night when the kid was trying to sleep. But when Tony wasn't around, he knew that Peter used the cane, reluctantly at first, then a little more casually, especially when he saw that Tony wasn't going to say anything to him about it, and neither did Pepper or Rhodey who sometimes hung out around the living room while Peter was around.

After May left, only visiting after work on Friday and staying until Saturday, Tony found himself spending more and more time with Peter, something that only a few months ago would have felt strange. Awkward. But with Peter...it wasn't either of those things. Tony had spent almost no time with kids throughout his life since actually being one, but Peter...Peter was great. The kid was funny and smart. He was optimistic and stubborn, always working hard. Always pushing himself, both with his therapy and with his schoolwork that he was struggling to keep up with since being away from school for so long. And Tony helped him. Helped him with therapy and schoolwork and then...then it transformed from Tony helping the kid he felt responsible for to Tony spending time with the boy that the cared about. That he...well, he liked Peter. Liked the kid a lot. Really admired him and enjoyed being with him.

He started thinking of Peter as 'his kid' even though he never said it out loud, not to anyone. Not even Pepper. But he had a sneaking suspicion that she knew. At night, after dinner, and after he would help the boy back to his room, he would join Pepper in their bedroom and she would ask how Peter was. How their day had gone. How physical therapy and speech therapy and homework and doctor's visits had gone, and if felt...domestic. Like she was his wife. Like Peter was his…

Well, Tony cared a lot about Peter. And with the kid around, always ready to laugh or chat or eat take-out or watch a movie, the two of them quickly getting closer and closer, Tony found himself thinking less about the others. About Steve, and the pain he felt whenever he thought of the man. About Wanda and her betrayal, and Bucky, who he'd given a second chance but who he still didn't trust.

And Ross.

He still had phone calls with Ross...meetings over the phone where they debated and argued, Ross giving him shit about the Accords and Tony refusing to give up the identity of Spiderman or the location of any of the Rogue Avengers, as they'd been dubbed. But despite all that, he felt like things might be okay.

Because of Peter. Because of the boy who greeted him with a grin every morning, and who thanked him for every meal. Because of the kid that looked at him with that same mix of awe and admiration and...and...well, Tony didn't want to name it. Was afraid to name it.

In the beginning, when this had first happened, he'd planned on giving him an internship. Had planned on mentoring him. Had planned on putting Happy in charge of him and then keeping his distance. But it was going beyond that. Beyond mentorship and beyond just a billionaire superhero and the young vigilante he kept an eye on.

It didn't bother him at all.

He had thought it would. Tony had thought that this kind of relationship would freak him out. That it would be too much and that he'd turn into his father...but he hadn't. He was patient with him. Had found a seemingly endless well of patience for the boy. It didn't matter if they were working on his speech or if he was helping Peter with his homework when the kid was having a bad day and just couldn't get his brain to work or his eyes to focus. On those days, he would lead the boy to the living room, sitting him down on the couch and turning on a movie.

At first, Peter had given him wary, almost uncertain looks. Like he couldn't quite understand this new relationship he found himself in. But then, little by little, Peter would relax, eventually resting his head on Tony's shoulder, the man wrapping his arm around him. The kid had even fallen asleep on him once or twice. And Tony would always promise that they'd get back to it. That Peter would be okay. That everything would go back to normal.

And then a month had passed.

Peter was in a sweatshirt and sweatpants a month to the day after his accident, his back against the arm of the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, while Tony sat a few feet away, going through their deck of flashcards, the boy growing more frustrated by the second.

"Al...al...alp...". Tony held up the card, watching the boy across from him on the couch struggle, feeling his heart drop a little. Peter has been doing good...better every day. But he still got hung up every once in a while. And Tony could see the frustration growing. Sometimes the kid could get a handle on it before he gave up. Other times, he would slam his hands down on the nearest surface, jaw clenched, sometimes even letting out a shout of irritation. Once, the week before, he had started to throw his head back against the wall, stopping only when Tony had lunged to slip a hand behind his neck to protect his head.

"Easy, Pete. I know you're frustrated, buddy, but you already have a head injury. Let's not add a second one." The boy had nodded, looking vaguely ashamed, and Tony had put away the cards for the day. Now, a few days later, the kid stared at the card, eyes narrow with that familiar frustration.

"Alp...al...why is that a ca...card? I've never even seen a fu...fu...fuc…"

"Language." Tony teased gently, hoping to ease the tension.

"Fucking alpaca." Peter spat, slumping back against the pillows that were propping him up.

He had to smile despite Peter's irritation. It was comfortable sitting on the sofa with Peter who was leaning against some pillows on the opposite side, the TV humming behind them. Tony had thought that it would distract him, but apparently it helped the kid relax to have some background noise when he was trying to get his mouth to cooperate with his brain.

The kid was doing great with physical therapy, working hard to get his legs to work for him again. And it was going well...Sam assured him that the kid was making progress every day. His hard work was paying off. But Peter still had trouble...still struggled to walk. And to an extent, to speak. Despite hours spent going through flashcards and working through speech therapy, the boy still stuttered sometimes. Still had to close his eyes and concentrate and sometimes he abandoned his words altogether, giving in to the frustration that would have made Tony give up ages ago.

Those were the times that Tony would sit beside him, either in a chair or on his bed, and place his hand on Peter's. "Take a breath, buddy. It's okay. Just take a minute." At first, Peter had given him almost confused looks, not seeming to understand why Tony was even there. He'd never come out and asked...still, as time had gone by, he'd stopped giving him those looks. Had started just taking a breath, as suggested, and nodding, and then trying again.

When Tony had found this kid on YouTube, he'd never dreamed that he would soon be spending hours with him, running through flashcards, helping him walk, or just...being together. But this kid...this kid was something special. Someone Tony wanted on his side.

"Alright. What do you think? Should we finish out the deck before lunch?" Tony asked, holding up the remaining ten or so flashcards.

"I hate you." It was said with more exasperation than actual irritation, his lips quirking into an almost teasing smile.

Tony grinned. "Come on, Pete, just a few more." He prompted.

The boy sighed again, then nodded, his frustration seemed to disappear as soon as it had come. He was an optimist, Tony had to give him that. Iit was something that Tony found endearing and inspiring rather than irritating, like he was sometimes prone to, especially when those qualities were attached to overly-noble, pig-headed superheroes. Sometimes, the kid was so much like Steve that it was uncanny...but there was something else there. A willingness to listen and understand that Steve had so much difficulty with. Plus, Peter cared about him. It was obvious in the way he looked at him...the way he smiled when Tony stepped into his room in the morning to help him to breakfast, or how he'd lean against his side just a little when they had watched a movie together a few nights ago. The kid had lost his uncle...and his father. He'd lost every other male figure in his life, and Tony knew how that felt.

Knew how to help.

When they'd first started with the flashcards, Peter hadn't liked the idea...had thought it was stupid. Babyish. And Tony couldn't really blame him. But the speech therapist that Sam had brought in had assured him over and over that it would help. That strengthening the connections in his brain would take work and practice, but that it could be done, especially considering his enhancement.

Without May staying at the compound, they didn't have to try and explain away his rapid recovery. Tony has worried that the boy wouldn't do as well without his aunt by his side, but Peter seemed a little more relaxed, probably because he didn't have to worry about upsetting her. Tony had heard about that first day of physical therapy from Sam...how May had cried, and how upset Peter had been.

Tony tried to be mindful of it...and May had too after that first physical therapy session. Had tried to remember that Peter was so afraid of worrying them that he'd rather hide any pain he was in than let on and risk hurting them. So when Tony helped him...when they did therapy together or worked with the flashcards, he made sure to keep his face pleasant. Open. Never tried to rush him, or reacted badly when Peter struggled. He just assured the kid that he was fine...that he could do it.

That Tony would be there regardless.

Tony held up the next flashcard, one with a picture of a house. They had three decks, all mixes of common, everyday things like a grocery store or a stop sign, animals, foods, and the occasional mountain or tree. Peter looked at the card, his eyes narrowing just a little before he said the word. It was the same for the next one, a book, and then a cat. He was obviously improving, but it took a second for the connection to happen. The speech therapist had assured them that this would go away...that Peter would only get better as he practiced, but that he might have rough days or even just rough moments.

The next one was a picture of a school, but Peter's lips twitched as he stared at it, glancing behind Tony before hurrying to say the word. Lifting an eyebrow, Tony threw a glance over his shoulder but didn't see anything. Letting it go, he went on, showing Peter a picture of a lamp, and Peter only stumbled over the word for a second before saying it.

And then a hand clamped down on Tony's shoulder and he jumped, dropping the card, and Peter let out a bark of laughter, covering his mouth with a hand when Tony glared first at him, then at Rhodey.

"Hey, kiddo. How's it going?" Rhodey asked, dropping down beside Peter into one of the chairs, reaching out and clapping him on the shoulder.

Rhodey has quickly become one of Peter's favorite people, which didn't surprise Tony in the least. Rhodey has first introduced himself to Peter the day before they had come back to the US, shaking his hand and thanking him solemnly for saving his life.

Peter had gone red in the face, stuttering and trying to brush it off, but Rhodey had shaken his head, insisting that he was glad they had Peter on their team. After that, the man had made himself available, hanging out with Peter sometimes when Tony was busy with meetings or phone calls, and although Rhodey never revealed what they talked about, Tony thought that he might have been the subject of one of their early conversations.

The day that they'd come back to the States when Peter had taken a break from physical therapy and just rested, he'd been acting kind of strange. Withdrawn and almost afraid. And then Tony had left to talk to Ross, May going to her room to take a nap, and it had just been Peter and Rhodey.

Tony had returned later, finding Peter and Rhodey on the same sofa, his hand on Peter's shoulder, and the boy's eyes had been red-rimmed. Like he'd been crying.

Immediately, Tony had been worried. "Everything alright?" He'd asked, hurrying over and looking between them. "Pete? You need your pain meds?"

Peter had smiled a little then, seeming almost relieved. "I'm fine." He'd promised, voice soft and tentative, and Tony had put a hand on the back of his neck, leaning in to get a better look at his face. Rhodey had given no clues as to what they'd been talking about but had only promised later that the kid would be fine, and that Tony should just keep doing what he was doing.

"Hi, Rhodey." Peter greeted with a grin, and Tony rolled his eyes. It had taken exactly one request for Peter to call him 'Rhodey' and the kid had stuck to it pretty well...then again, Tony hadn't asked Peter to call him by his first name. Not that he'd mind...that's how he'd introduced himself in the first place. But there was something so endearing about the kid when he called him Mr. Stark...he didn't know if he was ready to just give that up.

He was such a good kid.

"You guys about done? I was thinking we could order takeout. I'm in the mood for pizza." Peter nodded, then gave Tony a sheepish smile. Questioning. Hopeful. Like Tony was his parent...like he got to decide what Peter ate. Like Peter was letting him into his life and idolizing him and caring about him and sometimes it was too much. Sometimes he felt overwhelming waves of affection for this boy that he hadn't even known for that long but who was so good and who obviously wanted to be like him but who was better…

"Can we get pizza, Mr. Stark?"

Tony gave a put-upon sigh, pretending to roll his eyes, making Peter laugh. "Fine. But we're also ordering salad. You've barely had a vegetable since you got here."

"So?" Peter asked, and Rhodey chuckled.

"So, your aunt is expecting us to take care of you, and that includes feeding you real food."

"Pizza is to...to...to…" Peter clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing as he struggled. Tony waited, his expression not changing. Hating that Peter had to struggle through this but knowing he could do it. "Totally real food." He finished, dropping his eyes, cheeks flushing a dull red.

"Yeah, fine. It's real food." Tony told him, reaching out and ruffled his hair. "We'll have pizza and salad, all real food."

Rhodey snorted as Tony pulled out his phone to order the food. Soon, the two of them were chatting about Peter's homework and when he'd go back to school while Tony ordered lunch, then just sat back and listened.

Enjoyed the peace that came with times like this.

He knew that Peter would be leaving soon. That the kid had his own home to go back to and that he had to go to school. And he also knew that Peter would continue to come by the tower after this was all over. He'd thought about selling it after the others had left...now that Steve was gone along with Wanda, and now that the Avengers seemed to be at an impasse. But now...now he had a reason to stay in New York.

When it was time to eat, just like every other day, Tony held out a hand, helping Peter up and supporting him as he helped him back to his room so the kid could use the bathroom and just generally have some time to himself. With all the time that the kid was spending in physical therapy and speech therapy and hanging around with Tony and Rhodey, he knew that the kid needed his space sometimes. Tony was sure that it hadn't been easy on him, being in this new place and trying to relearn how to walk and speak and suddenly being away from his aunt and friends, but he seemed to be doing okay for the most part.

After lunch, which they ate in the living room with Rhodey and Pepper, it was time for more physical therapy with Sam. At first, it had taken just about everything out of the kid, leaving him shaky-legged and so weak that more than once, Tony had had to help him into a wheelchair and then all but lift him into his bed to rest. He didn't mind, to be clear. He was happy to help the boy. But he knew that Peter was embarrassed to need the help. When his aunt was visiting, she was always the one to help, otherwise, it was Tony. Rhodey had offered to help too, but Tony didn't want to ask that of his friend.

Didn't want Peter to think that Tony would rather someone else deal with him.

He left them alone for physical therapy, finally picking up the phone where Ross had been waiting all morning. He knew that maybe antagonizing Ross while also trying to get him to cooperate wasn't the best idea, but he also knew that Ross was a prick, so he didn't feel all that bad about it.

The Accords were something he'd been pouring over in his limited free time, going through them line by line to try and figure out a compromise. He didn't want Cap and Wanda to be fugitives, although Wanda might have to face some kind of justice...she'd killed people. On accident, yes...but people were dead and the countries of the world needed to know that they weren't going to invade their home and start racking up casualties. casualties. They had to be accountable to someone. That didn't mean that Tony would give up Peter's identity, or ask other vigilantes to reveal their identities. He just wanted the Avengers to realize that they couldn't expect the world to be okay with an American group of superheroes showing up whenever they wanted and causing millions of dollars of property damage...or the deaths of innocent people.

He knew that Sam and Natasha, both of whom were staying at the compound, were in contact with Steve and Wanda. Tony was glad that they were okay...that apparently Bucky was safe and hopefully getting help, but he wanted to talk to them. Wanted to sit down and bring out all their issues again and try to work this out. Maybe Steve had seen some sense. Maybe he would accept an olive branch this time, especially after the kid had been hurt in their last fight.

If anything good came out of Peter's injuries, then at least all of this wouldn't feel like such a waste.

No...not a waste, Tony thought, grabbing a pen and striking through one of his notes on the page that he was staring at. Nothing about Peter was a waste. He'd gotten to know a kid that otherwise, he might have pushed away forever. He'd found something special...a relationship with a teenage boy that felt like something new and hopeful and just...good. Peter was good. He was kind and smart and so brave and Tony was glad to know him. Proud to be his mentor and friend and some kind of male role model in the boy's life.

Tony wasn't glad that the boy had been hurt. But he was glad that he'd gotten this chance to spend time with him, especially after losing so much. Even if the Avengers broke up, even if they could never quite work this out, the world would have Spiderman. And it would still have Iron Man too.

He shot off a text to Steve before going down to the gym, proposing some times to meet. It would be hard. It would be painful. But they could still fix this. Maybe. If everyone could just listen.

Tony couldn't help the smile on his face or the warm rush of relief in his chest when he stepped out of the elevator to find Peter standing on his own beside a table, drinking from a bottle of water, Sam standing close enough to catch him if he started to falter but far enough away that they could talk normally. The boy rested one hand on the table, probably for balance, but didn't seem all that tired. It wasn't like before when the boy had barely been able to keep his head up after an hour of using the gym equipment, walking with the cane, and doing the exercises that Sam helped him with.

He really owed Sam one...of course, he was being paid. Like...really well. Better than any other physical therapist would usually make. Still, the man had stuck around, even when he didn't know the kid, and had stayed in the compound instead of going with Steve and Bucky to make sure that Peter was okay. To make sure that he got the best physical therapy possible while not having to let another person know his identity. "Hey, kiddo. How was it?" He asked once he'd reached them, reaching out an arm to wrap around Peter's shoulder, patting his arm.

"Good," Peter told him, grinning back and resting against his side. The boy was warm and comfortable under his arm, fitting perfectly to his side. Like he was actually his kid.

"He's doing a great job," Sam told him, reaching out and ruffling Peter's hair. "I think he'll be ready to go home by the end of the week. Get back to school. What do you think, Pete?" He asked.

"Um...yeah." The boy nodded. "Yeah, th...that would be great."

"We'll see how you're doing then, and I'll talk to your speech therapist." He glanced up at Tony who nodded. They would all have a meeting with May to discuss Peter going back home, and she would talk to his school to make sure that they were aware of any accommodations they might need to make for him. Tony had to admit he was a little worried about Peter leaving the compound. What if he had a seizure at school? Or when he was home alone? What if he had a bad day at school and had trouble talking? What if the other kids made fun of him?

But Tony had known that this was happening. That Peter had to go home. Because of course he did.

So why did his chest ache just a little at the thought? He would still see Peter. He would still have the kid over to the tower. Everything was going to be fine. Peter would be fine.

Instead of taking Peter to his room, Tony asked him if he wanted to hang out in the lab, and the kid agreed instantly, eyes lighting up. They hadn't really spent any time down there since bringing Peter to the compound, mostly because he had mostly been exhausted, or asleep, or in one type of therapy or another. Downstairs, Tony pulled up a chair to one of the desks, the one that he'd set up for Peter, and the kid dropped into it, looking tired but excited. Excited to be down in his lab and excited to know him and excited to be working with him.

And Tony loved him. He loved this kid. And he was excited to be working with him too.

"Alright, Pete, I thought we could take a look at your suit. You wanna start with the webshooters?" He asked, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, knowing that it wouldn't be the last time. That he would get to show Peter his lab in the tower, and the garage, and the movie theater and the bedroom that Tony would set up for him. That they would continue to work together and he would mentor the kid and also try to be something more.

And he was pretty sure that something great would come from it.

The End


	12. Leap Of Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing this story! I hope that you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

Three months.

It was ridiculous and amazing and wonderful to Tony that it had only been just over three months. Three months since he had looked down to see Peter attaching Rhodey to him with a web...three months since Peter had plummeted from the sky, arm outstretched, fingers twitching to make a web that never came. Three months since the boy's head had bounced off the tarmac and three months since Rhodey had screamed and pulled his mask off and three months since the boy had lain on the ground, unresponsive, a line of blood trailing from his nose.

Tony had to shake his head, forcing his thoughts away from that day. Beside him at the kitchen counter in the tower, Peter was eating Thai food with abandon, closing his eyes and humming at the taste. He'd gotten out of school just half an hour earlier, and was at the tower for his internship. It was something they'd established after Peter had returned home to his aunt. The kid came over on Fridays after school (and a couple of times on other days after school when Tony would pick him up and take him to dinner or ice cream before taking him to the tower.

All plans to sell the tower had been scrapped. In fact, Peter now had two guest rooms...one at the compound and one at the tower.

Things with Steve were getting...better. Somewhat. Ross was dragging his feet when it came to negotiating the Accords, but Tony had gone over his head more than once and was slated to speak before the UN soon. He had high hopes that he'd be able to convince everyone involved, including Steve and the representatives at the United Nations, that the Avengers could remain a team and accept some form of regulation.

Sam and Natasha were staying at the compound, along with, as of a few days before, Steve. Wanda was still hesitant to move back in, but Tony had sent a message via Natasha that she was welcome to. That they were going to fix this. That she was still an Avenger. Steve asked about Peter a lot, texting Tony to check on his progress, and Tony knew that Sam had been keeping him and the others updated.

After this all blew over, he wanted to get the team together. To introduce them to the kid. Because he wanted Peter to be part of the team one day. Maybe not just yet...he wasn't sure Peter was ready yet. Sure, he was strong and fast and a hell of a superhero already, even without training, but Tony wanted him to stay on the ground for a little while. Keep on helping the little guy. Then, after some training and some more mentoring, Spiderman could join the team. Still, even if Peter wasn't an official Avenger just yet, Tony wanted him to meet the team. Train with them once he was ready to train again. Entertain him during team meetings.

Speaking of training, that was why Peter was sitting beside him at the kitchen counter, shoveling Thai food into his mouth. He'd asked to be cleared for Spiderman-ing a week after he'd been allowed to go home, but that had been a hard no from both Sam and Tony. Peter had mostly finished with physical therapy, but Sam still wanted to keep an eye on him and had insisted Peter wait a while before he was allowed to go back to patrolling.

Tony had asked Peter about telling May the truth, but Peter had been adamant that they not worry her anymore...that he couldn't freak her out like that. Not after everything she'd been through. So, allowing Peter to make that decision on his own, Tony had stuck with the internship story, which was why May thought that Peter was at the tower for his usual internship, rather than a test drive of his suit upgrades and maybe some light patrolling.

Once Peter was finished eating, he threw his take-out containers in the trash, then practically vibrated in place as he stared at Tony, his whole face hopefully and somewhat worried. As if Tony would change his mind now. "Alright, Pete. You ready?" He asked, bringing his hand up to the boy's neck and squeezing a little. Peter nodded, eyes huge.

"Yeah! Let me get my suit!" He cried, turning and hurrying off toward his bedroom, and Tony had to chuckle as he watched him. Peter could run. A little over three months after plummeting to what could have been his death, Peter was running to his bedroom.

Tony swallowed hard, wiping a hand over his face and taking a long drink of his water, trying to compose himself. Peter was fine. The kid was fine. Three months after a near-death experience and a traumatic brain injury and the boy was talking and running and laughing and leaning against Tony when the man would throw an arm around him, head resting against his chest and Tony hadn't thought that he would ever be the kind of man to hug a teenager that he was mentoring...or the kind of man that mentored teenagers. But now...now he loved the kid. Loved having him around and loved working with him and watching him recover and get back to the person he'd been before and…

Tony just loved him.

Peter had finally been cleared. This had been after extensive testing by Helen, close observation by Sam, and a session in the gym with Tony who had watched him closely for any kind of fatigue or difficulty moving or focusing or literally anything he could use to keep Peter from putting himself in danger again.

But Peter was Spiderman. Tony could be there, and he could make sure Peter had a suit that would do everything it could to protect him, and he could monitor him and put as many protections in place as he could think of. But he couldn't stop Peter from being Spiderman. And if he thought about it, he really didn't want to. The world needed Spiderman, just as much as Tony needed Peter.

He joined the boy in his room after a few minutes, the two of them moving to the balcony, the Iron Man armor covering Tony as he wrapped an arm briefly around Peter's shoulders, giving a quick squeeze.

"You sure about this, Pete?" He asked, knowing the answer even as he asked.

"Yeah." For a moment, there was just a bit of hesitation, but then Peter grinned and grabbed his mask, pulling it over his eyes, the two of them stepping forward. In one fluid movement, the kid leaped onto the railing, balancing there easily as he swung his legs over and sat down, feet pressed against the bars. For a moment, the two of them stared out at the city, and Tony couldn't help but notice that Peter wasn't looking at the skyline...he was looking down.

Tony knew that this was the next step...that the kid needed to build up his confidence again, especially after a fall like the one he'd had. Hell, Tony wouldn't have blamed the kid if he'd never wanted to go web-slinging again. Peter was braver than him, though. More importantly, he was Spiderman. A hero. And Tony had accepted that. But he also knew that he wasn't ready for Peter to jump off of a building by himself just yet. Not without some backup. That's where he came in.

Dressed in full armor, he climbed on the railing to sit beside Peter, both of them breathing in the quiet afternoon, shoulders touching. Finally, Tony broke the silence. "You sure you're ready for this?"

Even Sam was impressed with the speed of the boy's recovery. Three months after a fall that, by all rights, very well could have killed him, Peter was walking and talking just as well as before. He could run on the treadmill without breaking a sweat, and could once more talk Tony's ear off, which he was thrilled about. Seriously, Tony thought he could listen to Peter talk all day. Every time he started to think that some peace and quiet might be nice, he remembered those long hours spent at the boy's side, praying that the kid would open his eyes and say something...anything. He remembered wondering if the kid would ever wake up...or even if he did, if he would even be the same kid.

So yeah, he was happy to listen to the kid prattle on about going back to school and his friends and his web formula and literally anything else as the two worked in the lab or watched movies. Tony had even started calling the kid after he was sure he was out of school, using the excuse that he wanted to make sure Peter wasn't patrolling. To be honest, though, he just wanted to hear the kid talk. Wanted to make sure that he really was okay.

But part of him worried about Peter jumping back into his vigilanteism a bit too soon.

"I...yeah." Peter murmured, not sounding nearly as confident as he had when he'd first jumped into the car after Tony had picked him up at school. "I'm ready."

"Because you don't have to be." Tony continued softly. "You've worked so hard, kid, but if you need a couple more days, no one would blame you." It was true. No one would blame him. No one would think any less of the boy for being afraid, not after a fall like the one he'd had. 

The boy took a deep breath, then nodded to himself. "I'm ready," Peter told him, voice a little more sure. "Just…" He hesitated, looking over at Tony, then spoke a little more softly, voice hopeful but also a little afraid. "You'll...you'll catch me, right? If...if the web…"

Tony felt his eyes heat up as his heart clenched. This kid. This kid that he loved so much and that was literally a fourteen-year-old superhero...who had gotten superpowers and had decided to use them to help people...he would do anything for this kid. "I'll catch you," Tony swore, faceplate up, meaning it with everything he had. Reaching out, he gripped Peter's shoulder. "I'll be right beside you the whole time, I promise."

Peter nodded, his hesitant smile growing just a little. "Okay." He whispered, looking down one more time, fingers gripping the railing so tightly that he thought it might be warping a little. 

"Let's go, kiddo. Leap of faith."

As if those words had been all the encouragement he needed, as if all he'd needed to know was that Tony would catch him if he fell, Peter turned to him with a grin, pulling his mask the rest of the way down so that it covered his face, Spiderman looking up at Iron Man for just a moment.

And then, Peter jumped, Tony less than a breath behind him.

**The End**


End file.
